


L'appel du Vide*

by Ruenis



Series: Fin [3]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anthology, Flower People, M/M, Memory Loss, Reincarnation, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14877977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: Slaine's memories become increasingly more troublesome as he starts having accidents and ill-thoughts, and Inaho wants nothing more than to ensure his rose's safety and happiness.Ensuring such a thing is difficult when he cannot remember what it feels like to 'die'.





	L'appel du Vide*

**Author's Note:**

> * the call of the void

 

“I like this one,” Inaho says plainly as he presses his palms against the flower's stem, watching as it sways slightly with his minuscule touch. It would not be that hard to break it, despite the flower towering above him. It will still prove quite the task to reach the blooming tulip blossom atop, if they do not wish to push the stem over.

Glancing over at Slaine – who is resting beside Nina under an umbrella made of a katsura leaf – his eyes linger over the familiarly speckled flowers woven in his hair.

Off-white and blue.

White roses are common. As are red ones, and pink ones, and yellow ones – variegated flores are rare enough, but a _blue rose_ flores, even if they are not completely blue, is unheard of.

Slaine is a peculiarity. That much was obvious the first night they spent together.

“What do you think?” Inaho asks them, gaining their – _Slaine's_ – attention as he gestures upward toward the pink and white tinged tulip, “We could make a hat out of its petals. For Slaine.”

Nina lifts her head a bit, green eyes flickering between the flower's pinkish-white bloom and Slaine, whose skin is still covered in white, blue-speckled petals. “It matches,” she says, lighting up, “I think it would suit you, Slaine.”

Slaine's eyes widen a bit in surprise, and looks away, embarrassed.

The rose has been awake for quite some time now and has become somewhat used to their world. The others have discovered how incredibly easy it is to fluster and embarrass him, and Nina regularly does so whenever she compliments him. The compliments, at least, along with the fact that he is never alone seems to make him happy enough – there has yet to be a time when he is not covered in several dozen petals.

His arms are still scratched up, still covered in small scratches that have scarred over. Inaho is forever glad that he woke up before Slaine had more permanent, lasting damage. Two weeks of rest had been enough to repair the damaged cells in his arms as well as the bruising, but it would seem Slaine's frantic scratching and plucking had been deep enough to warrant scarring; unfortunate, but Slaine does not give the scars a second thought, and Inaho tries not to linger over them himself. The petals along his arms grow back like the rest do, but.. they are imperfect, tiny, and they will probably never grow back normally; they will not ever match the rest. Even if Slaine is at his absolute happiest, the petals will forever remain imperfect due to cell damage. A sad fact, but ultimately unchangable, no matter how hard any of them try. Slaine does not seem particularly upset about it, anyway, and Inaho tries not to think about it too much.

“I thought so, as well,” Inaho says, tearing his eyes away from Slaine's pale, pale arms. Leaning somewhat against the flower's stem, he feels it sway again just a bit, and the stem is a bit cool against his exposed skin, cool with the water running through it.

Calm is leaning against the other side of the flower's stem, and between them, the stem stays straight enough. The sunflower's extra height and weight force the flower to bend just a bit more in Inaho's direction, and he tries to keep from tipping it, careful with how much he presses against it. “So d'ya wanna chop it down, or should we try to climb for it? We can get Inko on our shoulders, probably..” Calm questions, and Inko raises her head from her own spot a few feet away from everyone else – she is currently standing in a small pond, the water lapping at her knees as she wades through it.

“I want to try!” Slaine calls before Inko can properly answer, and he gets up as quickly as he can, nearly losing his balance – Nina gently pushes on his back before he falls over, and he manages to regain his balance, crouching down a bit to get out from under their leaf umbrella.

Inaho catches his gaze when the blond takes a few slow, clumsy steps forward, and frowns a bit to himself, wondering if allowing him to try for the petals is a good idea. “Are you sure, Slaine?” he asks, stepping in front of the flower's stem to prevent the other from making any unwise attempts.

“I want to try,” Slaine repeats, nodding a bit as he glances upward.

The flower is a good ten inches taller than him, _at least_ , and its pinkish-white petals catch the sun and give off a warm, glowy sort of hue that has the rose staring a bit longer than his sensitive eyes can handle; he looks back to Inaho after blinking the brightness from of his eyes, and smiles a bit, sheepish and so clearly _innocent_.

“.. alright,” Inaho murmurs, unable to refuse the other when he is so earnest, “You can stand on my shoulders, then. Calm and I will support you while you grab a few petals.”

“Shouldn't be too hard. You're kind of light,” Calm offers, shrugging a bit, “Lighter than Inaho, at least.”

Inaho remains silent at the jab, knowing full well that the other is teasing him.

Slaine only nods a few times, happy with the fact that he is going to be able to try something new.

Since he has woken up, they have gone on hikes up the mountain, walks through the vast forest, and Inaho has even taken him to the lake where he originally used to be, as a flower, a few times. Slaine has seen quite a bit of his new world with them, and..

.. this world is quite beautiful.

But they have yet to do something that is tedious and exhausting, or anything dangerous. “Calm, get down,” Inaho says plainly, already pressing a hand to the flower's stem so that he is as steady as possible, “I'll hold onto your feet, alright, Slaine?” Glancing again at Slaine, he finds that the blond's eyes are narrowed somewhat in another fluster. “It shouldn't tickle, if that's what you're worried about,” he offers, and for the second time, he supposes Slaine's face would have flushed a light red if he had blood running through his veins rather than minerals and water. Gaze slipping downward to Slaine's neck, his mismatched eyes linger on the scar going 'round, barely visible, not so noticeable even this up close. It very nearly blends in with his pale skin, hidden.

The orange blossom forces himself to look away.

Calm bends down a bit, just enough for Inaho to hook his leg over his shoulder, which he does, kind of – Inaho instead presses his knee against Calm's shoulder, heaving himself up until he is sort of kneeling, one hand still pressed flat against the tulip's stem for support.

“I-I know it won't,” Slaine insists, though the look on his face begs to differ.

Awhile ago, they had realised that some parts of Slaine are more sensitive than others. His feet were a given, but.. Slaine's torso seems especially sensitive, more so than even his feet and neck. Inaho had attempted to run the end of a frayed, soft feather along Slaine's bare back – Slaine _froze_. Inaho recognised the look on his face; it was painful, and he does not want to think about it.

Since then, they have never attempted to elicit such a reaction again.

Inaho is.. unsure of how to tell everyone that Slaine 'remembers' things from a world that never should have existed. But he 'remembers' it too, somewhat. Vaguely. A flicker, here and there, a taste of a dream, like the one he had during Slaine's first night awake.

Neither of them talk about it. They have a quiet, mutual understanding  of what to keep just between the two of them.

“Do you still want to try?” he asks, and Slaine nods again, still looking excited, if just a bit nervous.

If he had changed his mind, then they would have gotten Inko to help them.

“You just.. want me to stand on your shoulders?” Slaine asks, taking another few steps forward, fingertips gently grazing Inaho's hand, “I won't fall?”

“I won't _let_ you fall, this ti–..” Inaho stops short, biting his tongue.

That memory is.. something he would rather not think about. That memory is a _mistake_.

Inaho has no intention of making a mistake like that ever again.

Thankfully, it seems that Slaine did not quite catch what he was saying, and only looks up at him, confused.

Calm groans loudly, playfully exaggerating as he adjusts Inaho somewhat, “C'mon, no more flirting, you two! Let's get the petals and get back to Yuki's place.”

Slaine lightly bites on his bottom lip again, visibly embarrassed as he mumbles, “Help me up, Inaho?”

Inaho forces a nod, reaching down a bit more to hold his hand out – Slaine is indeed light, _frighteningly_ light, and he helps the rose up with no issue, reminding himself not to squeeze Slaine's hand. “Just – hold onto..” Pausing, he waits until Slaine adjusts himself a bit more, and Slaine's bare feet are almost cold against his skin.

Almost, but not quite. The katsura leaf Nina carries around, the one she is still keeping with her to keep herself shielded from the sun, is doing its job of keeping Slaine and Nina shielded. Nina gazes at them from under its wide brim, gently gripping the leaf’s stem, and tries to keep it from swaying.

“Like this?”

“Yup, just hold onto the flower stem, so you don't fall,” Calm says, slowly straightening himself back up – Inaho manages to remain still on his shoulders, knees offering slightly better support and traction than his feet would have, and he gently grasps Slaine's feet to keep him from toppling over.

Slaine makes a soft sound at the touches, something on the verge of a gasp and laughter, though he remains as silent as he can manage. It is clear he is trying not to flinch from each lingering touch.

 _It must tickle,_ Inaho figures, resisting the urge to comment.

“Can ya reach the petals?” Calm asks, trying to lift himself up as much as he can without losing his balance. The stem helps, a bit. If they _do_ fall they will fall forward instead of backward, and they may be able to catch themselves – as long as they position themselves correctly. But if they end up toppling backward..

Well, Nina and Inko would definitely be unable to reach them in time, and it would hurt.

_A lot._

Slaine would probably get the most hurt, being the highest off the ground, though there is no doubt Inaho would try to catch him.

“Almost..” Slaine murmurs, trying his best to reach upward, though his fingertips fall short of reaching the hanging petal's curved end. “I.. can't..” he admits after a few more futile attempts.

Their little tower is simply not enough to reach the tulip's petals, not even enough to reach the bulb. They will not be able to harvest any petals like this.

“How confident are you trying to climb the rest of the way?” Calm asks, raising his voice..

“I.. want to try..” Slaine says again, biting his lip.

 _That's not an answer,_ Inaho thinks to himself, feeling more hesitant than before.

Since Slaine woke up, that voice that had made him promise to take care of Slaine has gone silent. It has not demanded anything of him since, and Inaho is still unsure who it belonged to.

Someone.. confused. Confused enough to invade his thoughts before he even found Slaine. Someone sad. Sad and desperate and frantic, someone who so desperately wanted to ensure Slaine would be happy in this world.

The voice is gone now, but Inaho has a natural instinct to protect the rose, to keep him content, happy, and safe.

“You'll be careful?”

“I'll be careful,” Slaine promises, nodding a few times, “You'll catch me if I fall, won't you?” There is genuine worry in his tone, voice shaky, and Inaho tries not to think of the reason why. Slaine may be unaware of his own feelings toward certain things, but Inaho remembers, even if he does not understand _why_ he remembers.

“Why are you two so sap–..”

“I'll catch you,” Inaho interrupts, not allowing Calm to finish that sentence.

Calm only laughs from under him, laughter that has Slaine looking away from the two of them, shy. “Ready?” he questions, glancing upward, only catching a glimpse of Slaine's fine hair and the thin, wispy hairs sticking out from the stem.

“Yes,” comes the response, and seconds later, Calm feels a slight, _slight_ weight lifted from above him as the other blond starts to ascend the stem.

Kneeling down a bit and releasing Inaho's ankles, he listens to the soft _thud_ as Inaho's bare feet meet the ground. Calm straightens himself and brushes his hands together, still feeling the tulip's cool stem against his palms. Looking upward again, his eyes linger over Slaine's figure before he looks to the orange blossom at his side, smiling somewhat upon finding Inaho pointedly gazing up at the other. “Y'know,” he starts to say in a quiet, hushed tone.

Before the sunflower even finishes, Inaho tears his attention away from Slaine, already looking unamused.

“I bet it'd make him happy if you told him how you feel,” Calm finishes, earnest and sincere.

Inaho hesitates for a short moment, allowing his eyes to flicker back up toward Slaine, who has nestled himself comfortably between a couple of the outer petals, presumably deciding to pull from the inner ones. “Maybe later,” he finally says, holding up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, looking up at Slaine from the spaces between his fingertips, “This is fine, for now.”

 _This_ being their friendship.

“Slaine, make sure to pull the really speckled ones!” Nina calls from her spot, and the rose jumps a bit in surprise, clutching onto a petal spattered with light, light pink streaks.

“Pick an extra one for me, too, Slaine!” Inko adds after her. There is more quiet, low splashing from her direction – she has gotten a bit closer to the edge of the pond, and she is dripping water back into the pool, purplish eyes trained on Slaine.

Inaho watches in silence as Slaine nods a few times – mostly to himself it looks like – and leans forward a bit more into the bulb.

Slaine carefully plucks the petals so as to not ruin the parts that are attached to the stalk, and gingerly tucks them under his arm. They are long, probably as tall as Slaine is, were he to stand up beside one of them, and the ones closest to the center are more speckled than the outer ones; that is sure to make Nina happy, and perhaps Inko will appreciate the oddity as well.

“Five is enough, Slaine!” Calm yells, and the other blond glances downward at him, looking a bit surprised. “You can jump down now!”

“J.. jump..?”

The word escapes Slaine's lips almost inaudibly, and his pale face grows even paler at the thought of willingly doing such a thing. Inaho promised to catch him, but that was only if he were to _accidentally_ fall.

Still, he manages to stand up, but the stalk suddenly feels dangerously unsteady under his feet.

“You can climb down, Slaine,” Inaho amends, gesturing to the stem, “Just drop the petals and climb down. Calm will catch them, and I'll help you, if you need it.”

“I..” Slaine lightly bites his bottom lip, gazing down at them.

The difference between them is still around nine or ten inches, and yet it seems far greater than that now that he is atop the tulip.

“.. Slaine?” Inaho calls, trying to catch his gaze. The sunlight is still too bright in his eyes, and Slaine is a mere blinding silhouette. “Slaine?” he tries again, “Are you going to climb down?”

Breathing in softly, Slaine holds his breath for a few moments, trying to remedy that dizzy feeling swimming around in his head.

The orange blossom watches as the blond remains still, and his heart drops to his stomach when, instead of jumping or climbing down, Slaine takes a clumsy step forward.

-*-*-

“I still think it suits you,” Inaho comments, watching Slaine lift his head just enough to meet his eyes, peeking out from under his hat.

The ends of the petals have curled up a bit, thanks to the thorn Inaho had used to cut and shape each piece of the hat, though it had worked remarkably well for what Inaho wanted to do. One petal had been more than enough for each hat, and Inaho had been able to cut the one petal into about four pieces, smaller petals, and layer them upon each other to keep each side of Slaine’s head safely covered. The way it is now, it looks like a sort of makeshift bloom, and it almost resembles a whole tulip flipped upside down and sitting upon Slaine’s head. There is a thin, green headband-like tie at the back of his head, keeping the hat secure. The hat’s odd, speckled colouration still stands out, and resembles the sky when the sun is setting.

They had given it some thought afterward, after returning with the petals and an unconscious Slaine in tow: acorns, they realised, would have worked just as well as hats, though they would have not looked nearly as nice as flower hats, and they would have been heavier. The acorns and flower petals are both waterproof, and also provide shielding from the sun, making either of them a suitable choice.

Inaho does not regret using flower petals – they suit Slaine far better, but.. _how_ they got them could have worked out better.

“.. thank you,” Slaine mumbles after a few moments, digging his hands into the dirt.

It is cool, today, though the sun is still shining bright and the wind has yet to pick up. The dirt is damp and cool and soft, _dark_ as it sticks to their skin and paints over the light petals covering them. It feels _nice_ , finally having a break and refuge from the normally blinding light.

Inaho adjusts himself as he sits in the dirt, looking between the two of them.

The dirt is cool, but it is still dirt, and it is still messy to bring back home. Given Slaine still prefers sleeping in the same bed, close together.. keeping their shared space clean  is a top priority to avoid any discomfort. Bathing is enjoyable, anyway – at this time of year, the water is warm, and it is far preferable to bathing with a chill in the air, or when it is windy. Bathing means getting all the dirt and grime off and being able to sleep without smelling of rich earth, too – something that Slaine has mentioned before.

 _Maybe.. if he’s feeling better.._ “How are you feeling?”

The question comes suddenly, sudden enough for Slaine to raise his head completely, only for his eyes to slip back downward when they meet. “Are you referring to when I jumped off that flower last week?” he asks quietly, voice low and hesitant.

“I'm just asking how you feel.”

“.. better,” Slaine says after a few moments, “The feeling went away.”

Inaho forces a nod, leaning forward a bit to press his hand over Slaine's own, reminding himself not to squeeze, “And you'll tell us if it comes back?”

Slaine had fainted, had been unconscious for long enough to cause concern. Upon Inaho questioning him when the rose had woken up, Slaine had mentioned that it had gotten hard for him to breathe and think.

Inaho guesses Slaine had gotten overwhelmed, which led to his accident, and since then, Slaine has acted a bit more thoughtfully.

“Yes,” Slaine promises, nodding a few times.

Inaho pulls his hand away, just a bit, allowing his fingertips to linger on Slaine's own. “.. let's go see the others,” he suggests, and Slaine lifts his head a bit more, seemingly happy with the change in subject, “Calm said Nina and Inko came back from the lake with more berries. You can eat whatever you want.”

-*-

“Do you like it, Slaine?” Nina asks eagerly, clasping her hands together as she stares at the blond, watching as he slowly picks away at a bright, bright red berry that they had cut into quarters. It stands out with its vibrant red, a stark contrast in comparison to Slaine’s pale skin, and each bite causes juice to leak and drip. Even cut into a quarter slice, it is still large in Slaine’s hands, and the juice dripping from it looks almost like syrup, smeared on his hands and mouth and legs. It certainly sticks to him like syrup does, caking the petals along his skin and forcing them down.

“It's.. sticky..” Slaine murmurs, frowning somewhat as he looks at it, “But it tastes good.”

“All the berries are sticky, Slaine,” Inko points out, “And that one's a cherry. I don't think we mentioned that.”

“He's still learning,” Inaho says, patient.

They have had years of trial and error, whereas Slaine only has about one year's worth – the whole time of which has been carefully planned out, so as to not stress or push him too far. Those memories in his head are wild cards, and Inaho does not want to force anything.

“You haven't even had a melon or an apple, yet!” Calm says, beaming at him, “ _Those_ are amazing. And they're _huge_. You'd really like them, Slaine. They're sweet.”

Slaine stares up at the other blond for a moment, chewing on the piece of cherry he still has before asking, “What do they look like?”

“The apple's red. Kinda like a cherry, except lighter, but it's shiny like a cherry. And the inside is yellow, and it's kind of hard to chew,” Calm says, raising a hand a bit above him, “They're a bit taller than we are, but not as tall as the flowers..”

Inaho remains quiet at Slaine's side, noting the curious, wide-eyed look on his face. He has noticed, so far, that Slaine's interest in this world is infinite. Slaine is constantly asking questions, usually when they are alone together – some of them are a bit startling, and it seems he realises that, taking care to keep his questions to a minimum when they are all together and remaining on topic.

Slaine woke up a near blank slate, with vague memories of that other world. Sometimes, he remembers something from that other world – _the one that should not exist_ – and it differs between something painful that he refuses to talk about, or something happy regarding their time together. They rarely discuss it. From what Inaho has gathered, Slaine dislikes bringing up sad things concerning a past that does not quite belong to them.

Inaho's memories.. are mostly filled with vague instances of all the times he let Slaine down, save that one, untainted memory he had dreamt of their first night together: their requited confession of love for one another. Outside of that, however.. details are fuzzy, and hard to grasp, and he understands that they were both there, together, until Slaine was not there anymore.

_Because he.._

Tearing his gaze away from the rose, Inaho tries to ignore the way his eyes linger over the scar around Slaine's neck, tries to instead focus on other things. Nina and Inko had brought back a few cherries and a couple of grapes, and they all rest together upon a leaf with a large stem they had no doubt used to pull it over here. The fruits lie in a small pool of water that sits in the leaf, their coats shiny, and the water only stirring with the occasional light breeze.

“.. melon's really big, big enough for us to live in it, if we wanted!” Calm continues, and Slaine is still wholly invested in the conversation, curious.

“And.. it tastes like water? Like sugar water?”

“Yeah. It tastes like water you can chew, and it's red on the inside,” Calm nods, still smiling at the other, “Whenever we find one, we'll hafta get'cha some. Can't lug a melon around, though.. it's.. _way_ too heavy..”

Slaine nods at that, teal eyes slipping back to the cherry quarter that sits on his lap. Staring at it in silence for a few moments, he picks it back up and brushes at his legs with his free hand, smoothing the petals a bit and wiping away the syrupy juice as best he can. “Inaho,” he says suddenly, “Can we take a bath?”

“Sure,” Inaho answers, giving his attention back to the blond. Feeling himself tense a bit upon seeing how much cherry juice has stuck to Slaine's skin, he breathes out, shaking his head. If Slaine were to accidentally tear a few of them out, trying to get the juice out..

No. Slaine's request is the best suggestion, and they should get it done as quickly as possible. It saves Inaho the trouble of asking, as well.

“The water will be warm, since there's still light out,” the brunet points out, gently taking the cherry away from the blond and tossing it into a small patch of grass. Slaine will not finish it, he knows that much – it will either rot and return to the earth, or animals will come and scavenge it for themselves. Nothing in this world, after all, goes to waste.

“We'll join you!” Nina hums, “We need to clean up, anyw–..”

“Hey, wait, no!” Calm interrupts, shaking his head, “You promised you'd help me bring all this to our place, remember? I'm not bringing it back myself, since you wanted to get sugarcane on the way.” Strong as he may be, even he is unable to carry _everything_ back on his own; it is just too much for someone of their size.

Nina's green eyes widen at the reminder, and she quickly nods a few times, “Oh, right, I.. We need it for..” Trailing off slowly, she spares Slaine a glance before smiling a bit, sheepish, “We'll help you take it back home. We can take a bath later.”

Looking over at their makeshift leaf-cart, Inko hesitates for a few moments before walking toward it, tipping it over to allow the water to spill out, “We wanted mushroom caps, too. We need all three of us to bring back everything without having to make more than one trip.. It'd be hard to carry the saw and all the food.” With just the fruit already, it is a bit heavy, and adding more things will only mean they will need additional help to pull it back to their shared home. The water definitely added weight, but that was temporary, so they could clean everything.

“Right. So let's go, then,” Calm says, gently pulling at Nina's wrist, the both of them following after Inko. The makeshift cart trembles a bit as Calm starts to pull at the stem, and Nina reduces its load by just a bit, picking up a cherry and holding it loosely to her chest. “See you guys later!” the sunflower calls, and Inaho does not miss the sly, knowing wink the other gives him. It is quick enough for Slaine, who is still distracted with his legs, to miss.

Inaho looks away from him, resisting the urge to sigh. There is no doubt that Calm had purposely drawn Nina and Inko away from them, to allow him even more alone time with the rose, presumably hoping that eventually, something will come of it.

Whatever their initial plan had been, it surely could have been put off had the they truly wanted to spend more time together. But Calm..

Inaho holds his breath for a moment, hiding a sigh. Nothing will come of him and Slaine being alone together, because nothing has happened for the near year they have been together. “Goodbye. See you tomorrow,” he says after a moment, and Slaine raises his head, then, finally realising what has happened during his reverie.

Disappearing amongst the few, sparse blades of grass, the three flores are slowly, eventually lost to the more shaded parts of the forest, where tree roots rise a bit from the dirt, where the canopy shields the ground from the sun.

Slaine looks after them as long as he can, until they are completely lost to the greenery, and Inaho starts to pull at his hand once they are gone.

“We should get going,” the orange blossom says softly, “Before it gets too dark, and we can't get back home.” _Before we accidentally get lost together, and have to spend another night outside. Last time, we spent the night under the stars and you were unable to fall asleep,_ he cannot help but recall, remembering how Slaine had spent the night merely staring upward and mumbling nonsensically about how pretty the moons were because they are not 'broken'.

Slaine smiles a bit, allowing Inaho to pull him along, the other's hand warm in his own, and gentle, “Is that why we live in a place with short grass?”

Where he had woken up, near that lake.. the grass had reached their knees. And near their stump of a home, the grass tickles their ankles. Near the lake and around their home, the grass is far, far shorter than the other parts of the forest deeper in. According to Inaho, the grass' height variation is thanks to their presence, the presence of flores taking up residency where humans used to once live.

“Things changed once the humans all left,” Inaho reminds him, patient. He has to remind _himself_ not to squeeze Slaine's hand, not to startle the rose.

Their relationship is fine the way it is, right now, the way it _has_ been since Slaine awoke.

They are close. Closer than Inaho is with the other three flores, despite him having spent far, far more time with them. Personal boundaries are foreign to Slaine, and Inko has described the rose as 'surprisingly attached' and 'extremely affectionate'.

Slaine rarely acts this way with anyone else. And the others have noticed.

However, just because Slaine usually only acts like this with Inaho, it does not warrant concrete romantic interest. In spite of what that other Slaine might have felt for him.. despite the dream that Inaho had..

_They are not the same._

“Why did they leave?”

“.. they went to sleep, and never woke up.”

“So, they died, then?”

Inaho hesitates.

'Death' is a foreign concept to him and the other flores. They do not quite understand it the same way that full blooded humans might have, do not understand it the way the other organisms might. They understand that some organisms – animals, insects – sometimes fall and rot back into the earth.

Flowers wither. They become too over-watered, or too exposed to sunlight, or their petals or leaves or stems get eaten away by giant insects or birds. They wither, but if there is something left, then they come back, healthy and renewed, like the petals on Slaine's arms. They are scarred, and the petals are not perfect.. but they come back, if there is something left.

“I don't know,” Inaho finally answers, soft, and he hears Slaine make a soft sound, something like a thoughtful hum.

Slaine had tried to explain it to him, last season: there had been pain – a sudden, sharp pain – and then everything went dark. Everything went dark, and he was alone again, alone and sad and scared.

And then he woke up. Here. 'Alive'.

But to Inaho, Slaine had always been 'alive'. Sleeping in a tiny flower, yes, but alive and breathing nonetheless. If they had abandoned him, or never found him.. Slaine would have remained asleep, never having a chance to wake up and live with them. Given the condition he had been in as a flower, the chances of him waking up from that without help..

They are quiet the rest of the way. Slaine allows Inaho to pull him along without any complaint. There are no further questions, just his soft, occasional hums of interest whenever he sees something he deems interesting; he does not stop their gait to make Inaho look around this time, presumably the thought of a bath and getting the petals unstuck from his skin is a higher priority..

Inaho tries not to dwell on the rose's question, tries to remind himself that Slaine and he are no longer quite 'normal' flores.

Questions come easy, for Slaine. And with them comes a curious thirst for knowledge, for understanding – this world is an enigma to him, and Inaho has found himself at a loss quite a few times already when it comes to Slaine's odd questions. They each remember different bits and pieces of the same, shared lifetime, and the mismatching pieces do not help when it comes to providing Slaine with answers.

Slaine remembers having died, though he does not remember _how_.

Inaho does not, and has trouble understanding the concept in this life. He remembers letting Slaine fall – fall far, far, far, remembers letting him down, betraying him, hurting him.

Slaine does not, but he remembers how badly it had hurt, and the damage is still present, even now. He remembers that they had been together for the last part of his life, that they had been friends, that Inaho had always been there for him.

Inaho remembers falling in love. Remembers how relieved he had been, when Slaine returned his feelings, remembers that he had been happy – quite happy, unbelievably happy – for a time. He remembers that their time together, however they had spent it, had been important to him, up until the very end.

But.. it seems like Slaine does not.

-*-

Leaning over the mushroom's edge, Inaho tries not to splash any of the water out of it or slip in its cup as he holds out a hand for Slaine to take, having always been careful with the rose. Slaine proved capable of climbing the other day – with assistance, obviously – and has rather good footing. Still, Inaho prefers helping him, taking care not to allow Slaine to slip or fall or hurt himself.

“Come on, Slaine,” he says, earning the distracted blond's attention.

Slaine lifts his head a bit, having been preoccupied with a bird above them, sipping nectar. “Inaho..” he says, approaching slowly and allowing Inaho to heave him upward, onto the smaller, flatter mushrooms growing under the cups, “Why are the birds not interested in us?”

“We don't taste good,” Inaho says bluntly, watching as Slaine's eyes widen at the answer. Smiling a bit, he helps Slaine into the mushroom cup with him, their knees touching as they adjust themselves in the warm water, before he stands up and climbs up into the mushroom cup overhead. “Most organisms aren't interested in us. We don't carry pollen.. nor do we taste particularly good.. We do smell good, but that's only enough to attract bees and butterflies, but they leave once they realise we can't give them anything..” he continues, voice low.

Slaine remains quiet in his cup, immobile, seemingly thinking.

Inaho gives the other a moment before earning his attention once more, calling, “Slaine.”

“Yes?” Slaine raises his head again, and finally straightens himself – as best he can in the small cup, anyway – a bit, stretching out his legs before him, gently rubbing the water along the petals caked to his skin.

“.. are you alright?”

Slaine's features slip. “I.. just..”

Inaho is silent as Slaine pauses, allowing the other to gather his thoughts, which are no doubt many, swirling 'round in his head. Resting his arms on the mushroom's edge, he relaxes a bit in the warm water, eyes lingering over Slaine's neck.

Though he is not sure, he thinks the painful thing Slaine talked about must have to do with that scar. Scars only appear after something painful happens.

“.. I feel like I'm forgetting something,” Slaine says, shaking his head a few times.

Inaho watches as the other's hand rises to his own neck, covering up a portion of the scar.

Despite Slaine having brought up his 'death' a few times, he seems wholly unaware of the scar, never having once mentioned it when looking at his reflection. Inaho catches him touching it from time-to-time, the action seemingly done subconsciously.

Slaine is either truly unaware of the scar.. or he never wants to bring it up, the memory perhaps far too painful to talk about in any more detail.

“You're not,” Inaho murmurs, catching Slaine's eyes, “I'm here, aren't I?”

That earns him a smile. A relieved, warm smile. “Yes,” Slaine says, dropping his hand. The water splashes a bit, and it is still warm in the slowly fading daylight, “You're here.”

Inaho returns the smile, relaxing a bit upon seeing Slaine start to douse himself in water and clean himself up. Taking care himself not to slip again, he rests his weight against the mushroom cup's edge, chin on his arms as he gazes at the rose. “I'm still happy you woke up,” he whispers, and Slaine raises his head again, that flustered look on his features.

“I.. am, too,” Slaine murmurs, smoothing out the petals adorning his legs; they are still stuck to his skin, but softer now in the water, no longer entirely coated with the syrup from the cherry, “Inaho, I..”

_'I love you.'_

Straightening himself at the thought, Inaho finds himself taken off-guard, heart a hard lump in his throat. That had been what a deflowered Slaine had told him in a dream, once, had told him earnestly and sincerely, and yet when he woke up afterward, he found himself a shaken up mess.

That dream had been nothing but a memory, a long forgotten, meaningless memory. Inaho is not even sure if Slaine remembers that part of their _supposed_ relationship.. subconsciously, perhaps, given how familiarly he has acted, but.. Inaho is almost positive Slaine perceives them as _just_ close friends; his actions and words have done nothing to indicate he holds a more than friendly interest.

“.. I.. don't know what I'd do without you,” Slaine whispers, “You've helped me so much, in this world..”

Inaho breathes out softly, feeling his heart settle back into its rightful place. “I'm glad,” he says honestly, and Slaine looks away from him, embarrassed.

“Can.. can you help me? With my legs?”

“No,” Inaho murmurs, shaking his head a bit when Slaine glances toward him, a bit saddened by the response, “It's better if you do it, so I don't accidentally hurt you. I'll help you with your hair, if you need it.”

Inaho catches a hint of a smile on Slaine's lips before the blond looks away from him, satisfied with the amended answer.

The reminder not to squeeze comes a bit too late, and Inaho has to relax his grasp on the mushroom's edge, little, tiny imprints of his fingers and nails left behind.

Losing Slaine, that first time, had.. It felt..

 _Awful,_ Inaho’s thoughts provide, the one word enough to make his heart ache. It is hard, _almost impossible_ , to imagine a world without Slaine by his side – and now that he has him, he is afraid to let go. Letting go would mean losing him. That first time, before Slaine disappeared, he had not held on tight enough. In spite of it all, in spite of his best efforts, in spite of him holding on and loving the blond.. Slaine still disappeared.

 _Things will be different, this time,_ Inaho assures himself, _promises_ himself, _I’m not letting you go ever again._ Pulling his hands from the mushroom’s edge, he leans back, allowing himself to rest against the cup’s rim. He exhales softly.

Slaine does not need any more marks left upon him.

-*-*-

Inaho is quiet, mostly, as he watches Slaine squish a few berries for their juice.

After a few days of monitoring Slaine and ensuring that feeling from before did not return, the flores went out and harvested some berries to bring back home. Some for juice, mostly for Slaine, and some for the rest of them to snack upon. They are not blueberries; Inaho remembers how it had looked in Nina’s hair, and this shade is different. The berries for the juice are stacked in the corner of the room, close enough for Slaine to grab and squish without delay. The rest reside in Inko’s, Nina’s and Calm’s shared home, kept separated so as to not confuse them with the juice stock. The berries themselves are bumpy looking, and coloured either red or a purplish-black – they are bigger than the blueberries the others had brought home before, and they have small, sunken in dip on their tops, big enough to hold a blueberry.

The rose’s palms and hands and knees and feet are splattered with a sort of purplish-red colour, too dark to be considered red, but just a bit too light to truly be purple – the way it is now, it almost resembles the varying purple that makes up Inko's petals..

_At least.. it doesn't look like.._

Shaking the thought away, Inaho forces himself to instead focus on the process, watching as juice slowly starts to pool at the bottom of their makeshift basin.

When Yuki found this stump and decided that this is where they would live, the two of them thought they might need a place for storing large amounts of liquid, such as this. It led to them cutting out a small rectangle in their 'floor', and lining it with a half dozen leaves, so that any coloured liquid would not stain or warp the wood.

Slaine is in the basin now, crouched down a bit as he crushes the berries Inaho hands him, more than eager to do so after Inaho had promised him a few cups of juice once he was finished. They will have more than enough for quite awhile, even if Inko and the others come over and drink some – unless Slaine drinks more than his share.

 _He might,_ Inaho realises, smiling a bit at the thought.

Slaine does not seem to enjoy the process of eating so much as he does drinking things, and they have all noticed he seems more partial to the sugared water Yuki gives him than chunks of fruit. Which is fine enough, it does no harm, and Slaine has his fill whether he eats or drinks, they all make sure of that. The food he is unable to finish, like the cherry slice, is tossed out and left for others to eat, or to rot, and return to the earth.

The rose has been mostly quiet the whole time, as well, though Inaho will catch him suddenly stopping from time to time, as if deep in thought.

About what, Inaho is unsure, and he does not wish to ask, at least not before Slaine is finished – distracting him seems an ill choice, given how easily he can be swayed from one task to the next.

Fortunately for Inaho, he does not have to ask.

Moments later, Slaine raises his head, and that curious gleam in his blue-green eyes is enough for Inaho to realise that Slaine himself would bring up whatever has been on his mind. “Inaho,” he starts, and it is in that soft, innocent tone that Inaho has grown fond of, “Can I ask you something?”

That tone he uses is unfair. It suits him far better, but Inaho is far more liable to answer him instead of trying to dodge the question or shift the subject.

Inaho answers with an 'of course', though he does not want to, and the smile that Slaine gives him in response, too, is unfair. It pulls at his heart.

“I was thinking..”

_I noticed._

“.. it'd.. be weird, if it were just the six of us..” Slaine continues, using the same tone, “There are.. others, aren't there? Other flores..?”

That sort of question is not the one Inaho had been expecting.

Blinking, the brunet finds himself gazing at a patient, curious Slaine, who has a half-smushed berry to his chest, presumably not going to continue until he gets an answer.

It _would_ be odd if it were just them six, there is no denying that. This world is far too big for them, and if the rest of it was empty.. then it would be frightening.

Inaho looks away from him after a few moments, feeling his own mismatched eyes start to narrow. A _'why?'_ rests on his tongue, confused and a bit hurt, despite him being able to understand Slaine's want to meet others.

It is only natural. This was bound to come up sooner or later, though Inaho would have preferred it come after they had a better understanding of the memories in their heads, once Slaine was better acquainted with this world.

“There.. there are others,” he murmurs, unable to help but feel disappointed, a bit hurt.

Slaine lights up at the response, elated. “There are? Really?”

Inaho nods a bit, and watches in surprise as Slaine drops the berry, the juice splashing quietly against the basin's sides, sullying the leaves. When Slaine approaches him, he instinctively sits up a bit, heart catching in his throat. _Too close,_ a thought tells him, though that same thought reminds him that they have been closer, before. Not much closer, but closer nonetheless. “Some of them.. live in the mountains..” he answers slowly after clearing his throat, “They're underground.”

“I want to meet them,” Slaine says, quickly adding an eager, “Please? Can we?”

Looking away from him again, Inaho feels hesitation on his tongue now, wavering between 'maybe' and a hard 'no'.

They are not normal, neither of them, but..

 _.. but.. if he meets more flores.. maybe.. he'll stop thinking about_ **that** _world. Maybe he just needs to spend time with others._ “When.. when all the juice has been drunk, we can talk about it again,” Inaho says, a compromise, halfway between making Slaine happy and keeping himself from blurting anything out.

It is unfair, the way Slaine is. Sweet. Innocent.

_What he should've been, in that other world._

Still, the promise of talking about it again seems enough to satiate the rose, who _beams_ up at Inaho, and closes the distance between them by lifting himself up and pressing his lips to the corner of Inaho's own. “Thank you!” Slaine hums, pulling away just as quickly as he had leaned upward, returning to his task of crushing the berries and collecting their juice.

The simple, affectionate action seems to have no effect whatsoever on the rose, but Inaho finds himself cupping where Slaine's lips had been, heart picking up to a hard, steady beat in his chest.

Slaine's lips had been soft.

And warm.

And felt just like they did when he kissed him just before disappearing into the dark.

“Sl.. Slaine,” Inaho calls, causing the blond to glance upward, unperturbed, “Why.. did you..?”

At that, Slaine blinks, confused now. “Why what?” he asks. Picking the seeds from the juice, he keeps them against his chest in a small pile before reaching up and placing them onto a leaf beside Inaho, taking care not to drip juice onto the floor.

“Why did you kiss me?”

Slaine's confusion deepens. The rose shifts a bit, and brings his stained fingers to his hair, pulling at it as he asks, “Because.. we love each other, don't we?”

-*-

Inaho is not quite sure what to do or say, now that Slaine's inadvertent admission – _or is it a confession?_ – is up in the air. The feel of Slaine's lips against the corner of his own still feels warm, lingering, and he almost wishes Slaine would do it again, to at least confirm his suspicions, or offer up some sort of explanation.

Slaine has not.

The rose has been exceptionally quiet as they watch the sun go down together, and has been slowly sipping on his juice, all the while leaning against Inaho for support, keeping little, if any, distance between them. An innocent enough action, one that Inaho would not think twice about if it were not for what Slaine had done just an hour ago. They are warm, pressed up against each other like this, and it is not uncomfortable, but..

“.. Slaine, do you remember? What we were?”

Silence.

Inaho feels Slaine only relax further against him in response. Gaze slipping downward, his mismatched eyes linger on the other's eyelashes – they are near-white, the same shade of his hair, and they are another oddity that makes up the flores that is 'Slaine'. They remain that way for a bit, quiet, until Slaine raises his head and smiles, warm, loving.

“I've known since that first night,” the rose murmurs.

_The first..?_

Pulling away, Slaine reaches out and sets his cup down in the dirt, keeping it secure by pressing it a bit into the ground. What little juice remains inside catches the sun's dimming light until he moves to sit behind it and in front of Inaho, that smile still on his lips. “We were human. And we were in love,” he continues, soft, “It.. was only for a little while. But I was happy.”

 _'I was happy',_ Inaho notes, _That's what he said that first night. That he was 'happy'._ “Was I happy?” he asks, earning a small nod, “We were happy together, then. As a couple.”

Admittedly, he cannot remember the specifics of their relationship. The details are fuzzy like his memories, at best, and almost painful, at worse – when he tries to think about it, about what had happened to the both of them, it makes his head ache and threatens to break his heart. Inaho may be unable to completely understand 'death' in the way that Slaine does, but.. the thought of losing him, _permanently_ , is painful enough. _'Not again',_ his heart tells him.

The leftover feelings remain, though. And the memory of Slaine admitting to loving him. And those feelings, those memories, fill him with a quiet sort of joy.

“Do you know what you gave me when you confessed?”

 **I** _confessed?_ Inaho blinks at the admission, and his chest feels sort of warm at the thought, surprised and a bit confused, but warm. “What did I give you?”

“Thornless red roses,” Slaine says, “You said they reminded you of me.”

_Romantic._

If it is as Slaine says, and they were indeed human, a whole bouquet of roses is.. quite the admission of love. Flores are not quite able to do something on that scale due to their size – if Inaho wanted to give Slaine a gift, a _romantic_ gift, it would have to be something like his favourite juice, or a bushel of petals from his favourite flower, or the peel of an orange..

Slaine likes the scent. Apparently, he finds it soothing.

“.. they were pretty,” the rose continues, “Fitting, given I'm..”

_A rose. Not a red one, but you're much nicer._

“We.. spent everyday together, after you confessed. For a week. It was..”

A pause.

Slaine's features shift to that of stressful thought. “.. nice. I remember.. a broken moon,” he continues, slow, stopping again afterward.

The rose remains stationary a moment, bringing his fingers to his lips, visibly starting to get stressed and nervous again. “You feel the same way, don't you?” comes the question, shaky and careful and hesitant.

Inaho raises his head at that, meeting Slaine's eyes – they are lined with nervous tears, and the other is no longer smiling. Instead, Slaine is lightly biting on his lip, hands bunched up into small fists as he digs his nails into his palm. Leaning forward a bit, hesitant, the brunet slowly pries his hands apart, loosely holding them in his own. “Slaine,” he says, soft, and the other stares at him with a mixture of fear and confusion on his features, “I feel the same way. I have, since that night.”

“Oh..” The breath comes out shaky, and Slaine breaks into a smile again, relieved. Tears slip from his eyes as he nods a few times, seemingly trying to affirm the statement, to cease his nervous worry. “I..” The words trail off, leaving him speechless, and Inaho cannot help but smile back, gently squeezing his hands.

“What else do you remember?”

At that, Slaine's gaze slips, and he bites on his lip again.

Pained.

Inaho waits for him to continue.

“I.. I remember.. that.. we kissed goodbye,” the blond answers, keeping his tone low.

Goodbye. A goodbye, just before..

For a moment, they both remain quiet and immobile.

Technically, they have only known each other a year, but it feels like far, far longer, and their relationship itself is not exactly normal.

 **We** _aren't normal,_ Inaho reminds himself. Leaning forward a bit more, he brushes their lips together, pulling away a bit slower than Slaine had. _No more goodbyes,_ he promises silently, and the blond only stares at him, surprised for a second until he relaxes into another easy, warm smile.

“You promise?”

“.. yeah. I promise.”

-*-

Slaine is fast asleep beside Inaho, one of his arms loosely dangling over the basin’s edge.

After drinking his fill of juice and talking excitedly about all the time they spent together – it would seem that their meetings were extended dates, since apparently Slaine was not allowed to wander far or at all.

Slaine did not say why. Inaho guesses it has something to do with the fact that Slaine was purposely isolated, meaning he might have been a danger to others, or a danger to himself.

Their ‘dates’ seemed to mostly consist of relishing the other’s company, making the most of what little time they had together. Slaine had said they only had a week together. A mere week. A handful of days, not enough, never enough time to properly go at their own pace.

Inaho absentmindedly runs his fingers through the blond's hair, taking care not to pull or untangle the petals and stems laced within. It feels soft – his hair and the petals alike – and Slaine smells of juice and that normally sweet scent he gives off himself. It is a mixture of violets and lemons, and mixed with Inaho's own citrusy scent, courtesy of them being so close all the time..

Yuki likes to tease him, about that. Since Slaine has been awake, the two of them have come to sort of lack their own distinctive smell, and more often than not, they are remarkably similar for most of any given day. Inko and Nina share a similar scent as well, and Calm occasionally smells of them as well, whenever they spend an extended amount of time together.

Inko and Nina talk quietly amongst themselves as Slaine sleeps, taking care not to disturb him. They do not want to accidentally startle him, make him fall into the pool of juice under his fingertips.

Not one of them wants a repeat of what had happened the last time their new friend was exposed to too much liquid.

After going out into the rain a little after he had just woken up, he ended up losing consciousness for a few days and he had been wilted for a week afterward, unable to do much with all the water in his system.

They were lucky, that time.

It could have easily taken weeks for Slaine to wake, if he had been outside for just a few moments longer. Though the event had been more than enough to convince him to be wary of liquid, his dangerous fascination with the watery substances remains, forcing the others to keep an eye on him, _just in case_.

Calm gently nudges Inaho, grinning at him. “So? Who confessed first?” he asks, clearly eager. According to him, it has always been obvious that Slaine had something of a crush on him – coupled with how Slaine normally acts, versus how he acts _with_ Inaho.. Inko and Nina also thought so, but to a lesser extent; they were never as pushy.

“.. Slaine did,” Inaho murmurs, glancing upward to gaze at their faces.

“When he kissed you?” Nina asks, earning a small nod. Her and Inko share a small glance, seeming happy with the slight turn of events.

 _It was only a matter of time,_ they figure.

Inaho being enamoured with a slumbering flores had been the first sign.

Slaine being equally enamoured after waking up had been the second.

 _It was only a matter of time,_ Inko thinks again, glancing toward Slaine. Their new friend is affectionate, that much they have noticed. Affectionate and kind, and is extremely partial to Inaho, for whatever reason, though he is friendly with all of them.

Love at first sight, maybe.

A warm feeling. Good. Pure.

“Slaine.. wants to meet the other flores,” Inaho says after a few moments, and they seem surprised. _He's far more perceptive than he seems,_ he thinks to himself, wondering just how much of the Slaine from the other world remains.

From what he can gather from his memories, _that_ Slaine had been melancholic, torn between a bittersweet ending and the cold reality of his circumstances. This Slaine.. is probably what _that_ one could have been, had they been able to be together.

Happy. At peace, in a way. Sweet.

“I told him we could discuss it once we've finished drinking all the juice,” he continues, “But I.. don't think it'd be fair to keep him away from them.” _Not if it means he could make other friends. Not if it would make me selfish to keep him by my side. Not if it means he could start to resent me._

“So.. you wanna start planning a trip up there, then?” Calm asks, brightening up, “It shouldn't take that long.. A little longer than usual, maybe, if you're worried about him. We can take longer breaks to rest.”

Since they moved away from the base up the mountain, they have taken small, short trips to and from there, as well as the surrounding areas, but Slaine has never been absent from their home for long due to his surprisingly low stamina. During the near year Slaine has been awake, none of them have gone to the mountain base, preferring to stay and remain with their new friend, whom they are still learning about.

Most flores are built to walk and run and climb for long periods of time, due to needing activity to stimulate themselves, but.. Slaine is quite fragile and weak in that aspect, and he cannot exert himself for that long. Perhaps it is due to the way he had been as a flower – slightly withered, petals riddled with tears and holes.. Perhaps it affected his physical capability.

They do not talk about Slaine's physical capability, much. The rose himself seems to be aware of it to some extent, hence his request to climb up and gather petals instead of Nina – he tries pushing himself as best he can, and they make sure he never pushes himself to exhaustion.

Should this plan fall through, it will be Slaine's first _real_ trip. It will be the first time he has spent more than a couple of days away from their stump, and he has clearly become curious enough to start questioning their surroundings. The flores that live on the mountain base are friendly – Inaho and his friends did not leave because of any issue, or out of malicious intent, or because it was hard to live there.

They got curious.

Or, more specifically.. _Inaho_ got curious, and took them all with him. And as Inaho's curiosity has yet to be sated, they have yet to go back. They do not have any attachment to the base or any of the flores residing there. They were kind, but Inaho much prefers his small group of friends – their company is far more valuable, leading the flores to be in no hurry to return to the base and stay.

It _would_ be easier to live there, surrounded by other flores, and having food more readily available rather than scavenging for it every-so-often, but.. Inaho is content enough living out here, and they have found ways to occupy themselves this whole time. With Slaine here, he is even happier, and sees no reason – other than satisfying Slaine's curiosity now – to return to the base.

“You can start planning,” the orange blossom finally says, nodding a bit, “And we'll tell him once the juice is gone.” Resting his hand on Slaine's head, fingers still tangled in platinum, the brunet manages a smile.

This is the best course of action. This will make Slaine happy.

It is hard to remain upset at the thought of sharing him, when he imagines how pleased Slaine will be.

-*-*-

They go out for walks.

Slaine is more than happy to do so when Inaho makes it out to be a 'date'. It is only slightly different than how they usually spend time together – Inaho gathers small handfuls of seeds each time they go out and Slaine assists him as best he can, carrying some in a small leaf that he brings around with him.

They spend hours upon hours together, as they usually do, but since having confessed, Slaine is a bit more animated and affectionate than usual. When he gets tired, he falls a bit quieter, and is content holding hands so long as he is not carrying anything. Inaho does not mind this change. Slaine's affection is something well wanted, even if Inaho had not been aware of it before – he enjoys the warmth, the attention.. Slaine is happiest when they are alone together, and Inaho is happy to grant him that.

This feels natural. Familiar.

Slaine is at his side, as he should be, and this is how things will remain. Inaho reassures himself of this on their dates, as Slaine holds his hand and does not worry about each gentle squeeze. The blond never worries about this kind of thing. Never has, even when they were first getting to know each other.

Friendship came easy. Love comes easier.

Inaho sees that Slaine had been holding back most of the time, even when they were alone together. The orange blossom had, too, now that he thinks about it. Love comes naturally, and they had been denied their forever the first time.

_This time.._

“This time, we..” Slaine starts to say during one of their walks, and Inaho finds himself raising his head, surprised. Shifting a bit, and forcing the both of them to stop, the blond squeezes Inaho’s hands again, thumbs rubbing against the back of Inaho’s hands. “We’ll have.. all the time in the world, won’t we?”

 _Quite literally,_ Inaho cannot help but think as he nods. That brings another smile to Slaine’s lips, relief flashing in his teal eyes. “Which is why you don’t have to push yourself,” he adds, and at that, Slaine quickly looks away, embarrassed.

Slaine’s stamina is something they have to work on, slowly. Surprisingly, he has a little more than they expected, but their dates are often cut short by Slaine’s need to go back home and nap for about two hours before he was energised enough to move around again.

“I-I know,” Slaine says, and Inaho feels another soft squeeze, feels Slaine’s nails against his palm. The blond shifts again, and pulls one of his hands away to brush a tuft of near-white from his eyes, another small, familiar tell to show his embarrassment. Eyes flickering between Inaho and the dirt beneath them, he starts to move again after a moment, leading them back toward their stump of a house. “I’m.. getting better, aren’t I?” he asks softly.

“You are. A lot better,” Inaho affirms.

And today, just like yesterday and the day before, and the day before that, they will go home and Slaine will rest and recover and be ready for another one of their ‘dates’.

-*-*-

As promised, he brings it up to his rose when the berry juice is all drunk. It takes a bit longer than he had expected it to – Inko, Nina and Calm deliberately took their time drinking their portions, and drunk less than they usually do, despite Inaho never asking them to. As expected, Slaine drinks more than his fill, choosing the juice over fruit, but even then, it is still not enough to make up for three flores' worth of juice.

“A.. surprise?” Slaine asks as Inaho pushes a cup of sugar water toward him. Taking it, the blond sips from it slowly, though his eyes do not leave Inaho's mismatched ones.

“Yes. Do you remember when you asked about meeting more flores?” Inaho asks, earning an eager nod. The curiosity in Slaine's teal eyes is hard to miss; this much is enough to make him light up like a firefly. “We're.. going to take you. To meet them,” he says, and Slaine sets the leaf cup down on the floor, beaming.

“Really?”

Inaho forces a nod, swallowing unease.

 _Nothing bad will come of Slaine meeting others._ The reassuring thought replays over and over in his head, an attempt to keep him from worrying, from thinking too much on the subject. _Nothing bad will happen_.

“Thank you!”

Inaho feels warmth around his neck and against his cheek a second later, and it takes him a moment to realise that Slaine is hugging him, _tightly_.

“Thank you..” Slaine murmurs, soft and happy and affectionate.

Slowly hugging back, Inaho's unease starts to dissipate with Slaine's earnest gratitude.

_This will make Slaine happy._

Pulling away just a bit, Slaine remains on Inaho's lap, and rests his arms loosely around Inaho's neck. “Are we all going? Yuki, too?” he asks, and Inaho feels the blond's fingers linger against his skin, gently, absentmindedly tracing.

The warmth, though it is not cold, is nice. Familiar. It is _Slaine's_ warmth, and Inaho finds himself relaxing further, chasing away the worried thoughts that threaten to ruin Slaine's excitement. “Yes. We're all going,” he answers, earning another happy smile. “It's a six day trip,” he adds, and Slaine nods, understanding, “You have to tell us when you're tired.”

“I will,” Slaine promises, nodding again.

“We'll leave in a few days, then,” Inaho says, bringing up his own hands to the back of Slaine's neck, where the scar is. The scar is the only visible proof that Slaine indeed lived elsewhere, that _something_ happened to him. Allowing his fingers to linger, he swallows his heart and meets the rose's teal eyes. “Slaine?”

“Mm?”

“Please wear your hat the whole time we're there.”

-*-*-

On the day of their departure, Inko and Nina brought some rucksacks with them, and left them out for Slaine to look at while they go and fetch Calm. Crouching down a bit, the blond looks them over. They are a bit worn looking, but still sturdy. They seem to be made of leaves, twine and vine from what he can see, as well as a petal or two. The packs themselves are made of leaves, leaves twisted and styled to shape a small sort of cube.. though they are taller than they are wide. The leaves seem to be layered upon each other in a similar way that the basin for liquids is, and they are shiny, shiny with a clear sort of coat.

 _Resin,_ his head offers after a moment of quiet thought. Not honey, or glue, but tree resin. Inaho showed him some before, where insects had stripped the bark from a tree – it had smelt particularly strong, with nothing to hide it. The straps are made from twine and vine, tied and knotted together to make for a stronger hold, and they are wrapped with flower petals to prevent irritation to their sensitive skin. The rucksack is obviously more intricate than his hat is.

“Inaho, did you..?” Slaine asks, lifting his head a bit.

Shaking his head, Inaho answers, “No. Nina made those. Her and Calm are better at more complicated things than I am.”

Slaine nods at that and gently pulls on one of the rucksack's flaps, peering inside. It is currently empty, but there is enough space inside for food, food plenty for all of them with the _three_ packs, depending on what kinds of food they intend to bring for the trip.

They are indeed quite complicated, at least, more so than the hats are. Nina has made other stuff before, as well – gloves, meant for picking sap and handling sticky stuff, and extracting seeds from fruit; a slightly more formidable umbrella, meant to protect from heavy raindrops.. Her handiwork is quite nice; everything she makes is sturdy and usable.

Calm has made things, although..

Slaine once rode in a boat the other blond had made, and took a short trip across the lake with Inaho.

.. the boat almost tipped over, due to them needing to paddle with a large piece of branch, and being unbalanced, since Slaine did not – _was not allowed to_ – assist in paddling it. Since then, Slaine has not been on the boat, and no one else has used it, either.

The sunflower has made tools, as well – makeshift axes made of glass, meant for hacking berry stems, some sort of tool that they had used to start a fire, once, also made of glass.. Calm's inventions, while somewhat useful, are usually more dangerous than not.

Slaine allows the rucksack's flap to fall back into place as he stands up, gazing at the brunet, “Inaho, we'll.. we'll be together the whole time, won't we?”

“Of course,” Inaho answers, nodding, knowing his rose still has a fear of being apart.

While this world does seem to fascinate him, it also seems to terrify him. Understandable, considering that he had been hurt when he was alone, before Inaho found him. For the first few weeks, he refused to leave Inaho's side, and had been visibly upset when anyone suggested they go out separately, or to leave one of them behind.

The rose has gotten a bit better at that. Slaine is not so incredibly attached to Inaho that he refuses to leave his side, now.

“Alright..” Shoulders dropping, the blond relaxes, an easy smile forming on his lips. Relief is clear in his teal eyes, and he murmurs, “I'll go get my hat..”

Inaho only nods as he watches Slaine disappear down the hall, wondering what had been on the blond's mind as he looked over the packs. Whatever it was, Slaine had been in deep enough thought not to hear the orange blossom quietly call his name, or feel the light tap on his shoulder.

Feeling a smile pull on his lips once Slaine has gone, the brunet only shakes his head. He _had_ intended on asking if Slaine would like to go with him to get the food, but.. it is better this way. As distracted as Slaine is, perhaps it will prove well if they run into any inclement weather during their journey up toward the mountain.

They finish up preparations by filling the rucksacks with seeds, nuts, and sliced mushroom tops. With the packs properly shut and spread among them – Calm and Yuki each carry one, and Nina and Inko trade one between them – they finally depart, still sometime early in the morning.

Inaho steals glances at the rose at his side, loosely gripping one of Slaine's hands in his own, Slaine's other holding a canteen full of water that Yuki had given him.

This is their first trip together. And despite the worry in the back of his head, he is happy.

-*-

The sun is not too bright as they make their way through the forest and toward the mountain in the distance.

They have already gone this way with Slaine, a few times, to see the veridian pools of water and algae and something Inko kept referring to as a 'lily-pad'. It had been a large, flat sort of green disc, with pink flowers adorning the top of some of them. The lily-pads themselves had not smelt all that nice, but the flowers.. The flowers were huge, and soft, and Slaine had brought a few pink petals with him home that day to use as pillows.

They had ridden some of the lily-pads, too, deemed much safer than Calm's boats – with their larger size, they had been more spread out, which made it far more stable and less likely for Slaine to fall out. Inaho had kept an eye on his rose anyway, making sure he never leaned over the edge or got too excited.

It gets cooler and cooler as they go along, with a gradual, slow incline upward.. The grass gets taller, as well, and they have to take care not to lose sight of each other amongst the blades. Slaine has not asked, but he assumes one of them is responsible for taking care of the grass near the perimeter of their home – the grass gets shorter as they get closer to home, and taller and taller as they move away..

 _Happy,_ Inaho notes as Slaine pulls him along, the rose holding his hand, _Slaine's happy._

Slaine is excited. Curious.

And for now, that is enough to stave off the worry that continues to plague Inaho's thoughts.

-*-

Once they finally settle down for a break after several hours of walking, the sun is no longer right overhead, beaming down on them, and the sky is just a few shades darker. Their very first day of travel is working out well; Slaine has yet to completely exhaust himself, and they have all managed to keep occupied, more than happy to go along with a new flores in their group. Slaine is curious, as usual. Inaho had tried his best to keep Slaine from wandering too far on his own, no thanks to that curiosity of his, making each and every little thing more interesting than it should be. They are not yet that far from home, but they _have_ taken a different path this time around, to an area that Slaine has only seen a handful of times.

Inaho and Slaine settle down a little bit away from the others, resting where the grass is a bit longer. It provides shade from the slowly dimming sun. The dirt beneath them is cool, damp, and it helps with keeping them insulated.

.. for the most part.

Inaho is quiet as he watches Slaine rub at his cheek, the rose visibly uncomfortable with something. There is a small frown on the blond's features.

Slaine continues to rub at his cheek, slowly growing more agitated and uneasy.

“What's wrong, Slaine?” Inaho finally asks, though he already knows the answer. Sipping from his own canteen, he continues to stare at the other until Slaine raises his head.

“I.. don't..” Slaine's small frown deepens as he holds his hand out, palm slick and shiny with liquid. “What _is_ this?”

Inaho's mismatched eyes flicker downward. He sets his canteen down and takes Slaine's hand in his own instead, thumb gently running over the lines on Slaine's palm.

Despite the walks they have taken, Slaine has not quite exerted himself like this, nor has he stayed hydrated during those walks. It is only natural he is surprised, when this has not happened before. And, since Slaine is not quite 'normal', and lacks most of the basic knowledge flores are born with..

“It's sweat,” he answers, smiling somewhat at Slaine's surprise, “You're 'sweating'. This is what happens when you drink water and exercise like this.” _And.._ Inaho leans forward a bit and wipes Slaine's cheek with his free hand, bringing his thumb to his lips afterward. “It tastes sweet. Like the water you're drinking,” he continues, watching as Slaine blinks at him, visibly surprised by the action.

Slaine looks away from him after a few moments, looking flustered, though it seems he is not quite sure _why_. “You're.. so weird..” he mumbles, though he does not pull his hand from Inaho's grasp, nor does he move away from him.

Continuing to rub his thumb against Slaine's palm, Inaho smiles a bit, heart warm in his chest. “You're weird, too,” he murmurs back, and Slaine only shakes his head at that, trying to hide a smile.

-*-

When nighttime falls, Slaine is already half asleep, done with walking for the day. Half asleep, against Inaho's shoulder, he clumsily laces their fingers together and starts to doze off.

Without the sun, they tire easily, and though they do not quite need it, they end up resting for most of the nighttime hours. Their moons’ light – _it's refracted sunlight_ – are not enough to keep them going, though it does keep them from exhausting themselves completely once night comes around. Slaine is the odd one out when it comes to wandering around during the nightly hours – he enjoys taking nighttime walks and looking up at the sky and stars, and though Inaho joins him, they only do those activities if Slaine has not tired himself out earlier in the day.

Tonight, thankfully..

Slaine has already tired himself out for the day, rendering him far too exhausted to take his nightly walk, but he is still awake enough to answer Inaho's quiet questions. Eyes shut, breathing low and steady, he rests himself against the brunet's side, mumbling answers to questions he does not quite understand.

Inaho had asked him why the sky was blue, earlier.

Slaine cannot remember what he had said, but Inaho laughed, so it must have been something amusing. Hearing him laugh made Slaine's heart stop for a moment – it was _nice_.

Slaine asked him to laugh, more.

Inaho rests his head against Slaine's, allowing his mismatched eyes to linger over Slaine's scarred arms. _Why is someone so new so scarred?_

If Slaine had not woken up in a panic..

_It's just.. you should've been.._

“Inaho..” Slaine mumbles, and his breathy exhale sounds like a drawn out sigh, though Inaho knows he is fighting off a yawn, “I'm tired, now..”

Smiling, Inaho forces the thoughts away and sits up straight, before pulling Slaine down beside him, lying down on the cool, damp dirt. “Go to sleep,” he instructs, brushing Slaine's hair from his eyes. The action earns him a small smile and a gentle squeeze of the hand before Slaine gives into sleep. Remaining quiet for a few moments more, listening to the cricket-song, Inaho allows himself to go to sleep as well, knowing that nothing bad will happen.

-*-*-

Each day after their first passes without much issue, thankfully. There are no summer storms to impede their progress for more than a few hours.

The journey up the mountain on their second day is similar to their first; they hike a few hours, rest with about a two hour break, continue on a bit more, and then settle down for the night. The scenery does not change much on their second day, if at all – there is more water, the further they get away from the forest, though the lakes here are comparatively small compared to the one Slaine woke up near.

Slaine seems to be relatively fine as they go along, with Inaho taking care of him and copious amounts of water with sugar mixed in to keep his energy up. Inaho convinces him to eat at least a few mushroom slices as they go along – they are thin enough to see through, and they mostly taste of water as thin as they are, with a hint of the natural earthiness a mushroom usually supplies. With it getting cooler as they journey upward, the grass getting taller, and the trees getting sparser, the sun's rays are not much of an issue as they can weave through the grass blades to keep from getting overcharged with energy.

With Yuki in charge of scouting ahead and looking for tucked away places to rest, they continue on at a steady pace, without any of them getting too exhausted or drained. She manages to find small nooks in trees, big enough and dark enough for them to take refuge in and nap in. Despite the summer heat, these crevices are cool, and it does not feel terrible to remain closely together.

Outside, as they walk in the summer heat, Inaho is grateful he does not have to convince Slaine to put some space between them. The rose quickly learnt during his first summer that fooling around could mean them sticking together like glue, though given his first night.. it seems he did not completely understand _why_ they would stick together, until then. Slaine does not like it. Like the cherry juice, he does not like being stuck to anyone, or his petals being stuck, as they run the risk of being pulled and torn.

As they go on, they watch as wildflowers spring up around them, in shades of purple, reds, blues.. They are tall, and there are fields of them amongst the grass, which continues to grow taller and taller as they walk upward. Leaves sprinkle the dirt under the flores’ feet – not as many as there are in the fall, and these are still a vivid sort of green – and the group occasionally picks them up and takes them along as umbrellas, having left Nina’s larger one at home.

It drizzles lightly on the third day. Yuki manages to find a tree hollow for cover, one that is not too high and hard to reach. They remain inside, eating and resting and talking quietly. And though it is clear Slaine _wants_ to, he does not lean over the edge and watch the rain fall to the ground. Instead, he silently sits in the corner with Inaho and listens to the orange blossom’s soft ramblings about the weather. With Inaho talking away, it is easier to resist the urge to walk over and peer out over the edge.

Calm and Nina are sitting at the circular opening, keeping it effectively guarded just in case.

“ _It rains when the clouds get full of too much water,”_ is Inaho's no doubt simplified version of things, “ _When the raindrops get too heavy, they start to fall.”_

The explanations help. Slaine is distracted enough to resist that urge, though his eyes stray toward the hollow's opening every-so-often. At those points, Inaho takes care to distract him with gentle touch, just enough to tilt his head back and regain his attention.

During the afternoon, the rain stops, and they continue onward.

The fourth day is cloudy, most likely due to the rain from the previous morning. The sun is unable to properly shine through the clouds, and the clouds do not let up all day and well into the night. The lack of sunlight makes them drowsy, and it is hard to hike, but they manage to go on and complete their goal for the day, anyway. Low sunlight at least means they do not sweat as much.

Slaine continuously looks upward at the clouds as they walk along, unable to help his curiosity, despite them not actually being in a 'new' area. Inaho has to pull him out of the way of twigs quite a few times to prevent his rose from bumping into anything. With his new knowledge about rain and clouds, Slaine keeps asking Inaho if the clouds look any different when they are heavier. Inaho is unsure of how to answer, though he does remember something about clouds becoming darker. Perhaps he can answer when he remembers more.

They wake up to a bright and sunny morning on their fifth day, with the clouds having done and the sun having come back to shine upon them. It is far easier to go along with their renewed energy, not feeling drowsy and tired as they go along, and they push a bit harder, just a bit, to make up for their lost time. Slaine uses this day to tell Inaho he is tired, preventing them from going a bit further, but the orange blossom is glad the blond kept his promise.

On the sixth and final day, Slaine is visibly excited, hurrying Inaho along in short bursts before he has to stop and catch his breath.

Inaho only follows after him, taking care to remind his rose to continue drinking the water in their canteen – Slaine does, at each reminder. Small sips, here and there, but enough to keep him from getting dehydrated and fainting.

The sun is still warm above them, and there are few clouds – the rain does not seem to have returned, nor does it seem as if it will be storming anytime soon, thankfully. Slaine still has his hat on, as promised, and it _does_ help in relieving him from too much sunlight. The two of them walk quite a ways in front of Inko, Nina and Calm, who trail behind them at a more leisurely pace. Yuki hikes on ahead in front of all of them, and her figure snakes between blades of grass, flashing white and brown as her long hair follows behind her.

After a few moments, Slaine starts to slow down again, and takes another few sips from his canteen. The rose's skin is slick with sweat, and each exhale sounds a bit shaky.

The image of a flushed Slaine comes to mind again, though it only lasts a moment – the thought of blood makes Inaho a bit sick, sicker when it concerns Slaine. When he had realised one of his eyes is that very colour last year, he had refrained from looking at his reflection whenever possible. Whatever happened to make them not match.. he cannot remember, nor does he want to. Remembering, like trying to decipher those memories, makes his head ache, right there, just behind his discoloured eye.

Inaho pushes the thought away as he pulls Slaine from the path, calling quietly, “Slaine. Let's take a break.” The blond's hand is cool in his own again, too cool, and he can feel Slaine's pulse beating far, far too quickly. He sits the both of them down on the damp dirt to rest, and pulls Slaine a bit closer to him, their knees bumping.

Calm, Nina and Inko easily catch up now that they have come to a complete stop. The sunflower has a teasing smile on his lips as he approaches them, a glimmer in his eye. “Taking a break?” he asks, glancing between the two of them.

Inaho still has one of Slaine's hands in his own, loosely gripping it, and the rose does not raise his head, gazing firmly at their hands. “Yes,” the brunet answers in his place, “Go on ahead with Yuk-nee. We'll catch up.”

“Sure!” Calm hums, beaming, “Have fun!”

Inko elbows him, a disapproving frown on her features, and Nina brings a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle. “We'll see you in a little bit,” the brunette says, pulling Nina along with her, “There's a small pond somewhere near here, if you need more water.”

“Stay hydrated, Slaine!” Nina calls, waving at the two of them. They continue on down the path, their footsteps practically silent, their rucksacks quietly thumping against their backs..

Calm yelps in the distance, presumably being told off again by Inko, and Nina's quiet laughter is eventually lost the further the three of them go. Moments later, their voices are completely gone, and they are no longer visible between the blades of thin grass, their specks of colour lost to vivid, bright green.

Inaho makes no attempt to move or let go of Slaine's hand until it is almost completely silent, with nothing but birdsong and the humming and buzzing of insects to keep their ears occupied. “I know you aren't tired,” he finally says, feeling his heart swell a bit at the admission. As promised, Slaine kept his end of their deal, and made sure to say when he was starting to feel tired – they have not had to worry about him fainting, thus far. “You aren't tired, but you need to calm down. I can feel your heartbeat,” he continues, and he presses his fingers to Slaine's wrist, feeling as Slaine's heart beats a bit faster at the action.

“S.. sorry,” comes Slaine's apology, and he looks away from their hands, embarrassed again. Wiping his cheeks again with his free hand, he breathes out again, and it comes out shakier than before.

“Drink more water,” Inaho instructs, patient, “We can get more when you're done.”

Slaine nods a bit, and pulls his hand from Inaho's, finishing off what is left in his canteen – the water is still cold inside, and it tastes sweet, courtesy of Yuki being thoughtful enough to bring along some sugar. Pulling it away once he is finished, he seals it shut, and sets it down on the dirt, willing his heart to calm a bit before he raises his head, meeting Inaho's eyes again.

“Feel better?” Inaho asks, leaning forward a bit, looking him over.

The rose's breathing has evened out a bit, though he still has small beads of sweat along his forehead, skin still shiny. Nodding again, Slaine smiles slightly at the other, though he still feels his heart beating erratically in his chest. It is a mixture of excitement, anticipation and eagerness, with a small bit of uncertainty threatening to ruin his mood.

“Good,” Inaho murmurs, cupping his cheek and wiping away what sweat he can. Slaine's temperature feels more normal under his palm, and he can still vaguely feel Slaine's heartbeat, which has barely calmed down. “What're you looking for, Slaine?” he asks quietly, causing the blond to blink in surprise.

“What am I.. looking for..?” Slaine repeats after him, leaning into his touch.

Remaining quiet for a moment, Inaho continues to rub his thumb along Slaine's cheek, the odd coolness unfamiliar under his palm.

Slaine is usually warm. Extremely warm. Even during the cooler autumn nights and the winter days, Slaine is still a constant, reliable source of heat, though he and most flores despise being outside when it is cold – they are not meant to be in the cold for too long, lest they freeze up.

The rose's temperature starts to regulate itself with Inaho's assistance, and his breathing finally starts to even out a bit more, no longer shaky or laboured.

Inaho still does not pull his hand away, not when Slaine is happily leaning into his touch – “You're looking for something, aren't you?” he asks, keeping his voice soft, even.

Slaine blinks again, taken aback by the question. “I..” The words trail off before he is able to get any more of them out.

Had there been a reason?

“I'm.. forgetting something..” he says quietly, shaking his head a bit.

 _Forgetting, or is it_ **not** _remembering?_ Inaho cannot help but wonder, unsure of what his rose is thinking at the moment. He watches silently as the confusion in Slaine's eyes starts to disappear the longer they remain still, and the blond eventually softens into a warm, sheepish smile. “Let's get some more water,” he says, and Slaine nods a bit, still leaning into his palm, “We're close to the base. We can rest more once we get there.”

-*-

The entrance that most flores use looks like a cave opening, and leads to a tunnel, which then splits off into a network of cavernous areas and tunnels. It is dark, wide, and seems to have been made by an animal at some point, and then abandoned for whatever reason. The flores came to inhabit the base at the center, and have since then dwelled there, taking care to make sure each tunnel holds up and does not collapse, and ensuring it is well lit at all times, due to them having difficulty seeing in the dark.

Inaho is quiet as Slaine holds his hand, their shoulders clumsily bumping as they walk closely together through the first set of tunnels.

Some of the paths intersect, and there _are_ multiple ways to get to the base – the other paths either fork off and lead elsewhere, or are dead ends. Each of the paths are marked accordingly, either with markings on the wall or tiny, wooden signs. Getting lost here would prove extremely dangerous for a flores, due to the lack of sun coming in and no readily accessible water.. It is extremely easy for flores to get lost, down here. Though there are signs and markings on the walls, each tunnel looks virtually the same, making for quite the confusing first trip.

There are eerie, glowing mushrooms strewn against the wall, stacked haphazardly on top of one another, or standing off to the side, alone. Their tops are wide and flat, and they are tall, too tall to reach. Fireflies also wander the tunnels, keeping the air busy with their buzzing wings, filling the tunnels with a soft, echoey hum – their glow is warmer, more comforting than the mushrooms.

Slaine's gaze lingers over the mushrooms. There are not any quite like this around their home, though the orange blossom has already told him not to touch them – they are poisonous, he had been told, but their green and orange combination is fascinating.

They do not remind him of oranges. Or Inaho. The petals on Inaho's skin are white, and warm, but Inaho always smells of oranges – these mushrooms smell earthy, and do not seem as if they would taste any good even if they were not full of poison.

The dirt in the tunnels is especially cool and damp, and sticks to the flores' feet as they make their way through – their voices carry through and echo alongside the firefly's buzzing wings, though they are not nearly as loud, and do not carry as far. Talking to each other proves difficult, and though Inaho and Slaine are right beside each other, they are unable to hear the other’s breathing.

Sun filters in through small holes in the ceiling above them – flickers of beams, here and there, cutting through the dark before them. Dust floats in the beams, dust and dirt, visible little specks that do not seem to move all that much due to a lack of wind and air. The fireflies disturb the specks with their wings and their moving, and a few of them escape up through the holes above, though they always come back to haunt the halls like lost wisps.

The sunlight and firefly glows are just barely enough to see the signs, instructing them where to turn, which tunnel is which, though they are all following Yuki, who seems more than able to recall the way by memory. They walk, mostly without pause or break, through the maze-like tunnels, and do not have to backtrack due to a wrong or missed turn. Without slowing down, Slaine is unable to look around as much as he wants to, and Inaho takes care to urge him on lest they lose sight of the rest of their group. Inaho makes a note to allow Slaine to wander some of the closer tunnels once they get settled in, not having expected his rose to enjoy a space as dark as this. The night sky, at least, is beautiful and their moons offer something interesting to look at.

It is only a little longer more until they finally emerge from the last tunnel, and into bright, spotty sunlight – Inaho immediately holds a hand in front of his eyes, and they slowly readjust. Slaine comes to an immediate stop beside him, presumably stunned, and Inaho finds the other staring upward, his hat blocking the sun from his eyes.

Following his gaze, Inaho smiles somewhat, vaguely recalling that a few years ago, it had looked a bit different. Smaller. Less colourful. “Like it?” he asks quietly, and the other looks toward him, teal eyes wide with surprise.

Slaine looks between him and it, grip on Inaho’s hand tightening, “You never said the base was a giant tree.”

-*-

“Where are we staying?” Slaine asks, continuously glancing upward.

The tree’s giant shadow and the sun high above them causes the leaves to give off a rustling, shifting shadow on the ground. The towering tree also holds fruit – most of them look wildly unfamiliar to Slaine’s eyes, which catch flashes of purple, green, orangish-red, and something orange that is not an orange. The orange fruit is smaller, less vivid than an orange, and the tree does not give off the scent of citrus, or anything familiar, for that matter. It smells more of flowers, or of juice. Without being too acquainted with fruit and foods, Slaine is unable to make any more guesses.

It seems like it houses most of the flores that live here, and there are rooms carved out and into its trunk. A staircase seems to go all ‘round it, up, up, up and dangerously high until the trunk loses its width near the branches. The rooms closer to the top are smaller, and they seem to be personal homes instead of the busier rooms near the middle and bottom. They seem to be full of stuff to look at – fruits, shiny things, objects shaped oddly, with bumps and ridges and spirals.. Slaine cannot remember what anything is, besides the ones he has relearned. There are other, smaller buildings scattered about the area, made from wood and actually _built_ , though none of them are quite that close to the other, and seem to function more as residential areas.

Their stump house could never compare to this. It is big, big enough than the three – _there were only two, before_ – of them need, though it is a bit livelier and somewhat more crowded when their friends join them. They have several empty rooms, and several more that are full of dried petals and leaves and grass, though Slaine has not actually seen Inaho use any of it. More often than not, Yuki is the one wandering around, making them more cups and bowls and petal pillows.

“Near the lake,” Inaho answers, glancing between Slaine’s face and their hands. The rose is still holding his hands, and is swinging them as they idle under a staircase, seeming a bit lost in thought. It is only natural, with all the new sights around. It does not seem as if the other flores have stolen his attention, yet, or if they have, Slaine has yet to let his attention stray completely.

“Lake..?”

The lake is not visible with all the hills and mounds of dirt and grass, despite it being ground level. It is closer to the tunnels, but it is not large enough to cause a cave in, nor is it deep enough to allow water to drip through its bed. It is where the fireflies live and go to rest once they are tired of patrolling, and it is quite the sight during the evening hours. Fish reside in it, a handful of different types, and they are there to ensure the water remains clean and free of pollutants.

Inaho smiles a bit, pulling at Slaine’s hands. “There are small cabins near the lake that we can stay in, just the two of us,” he continues, and Slaine immediately looks at him, slightly flustered.

“Just.. us..?” Slaine repeats, pleasantly surprised.

“I promised we’d be together the whole time,” Inaho points out, and that earns him a smile, shy and happy. Pulling one of his hands free from Slaine’s grasp, he starts walking around the staircase, minding the roots that jut from the ground. “What do you want to do first?” he asks, already having an idea of something to do before they settle down for the night. Until then, there is plenty of time to waste.

Slaine gives it some thought, gaze flickering upward again, at the fruit hanging high, high above them on lofty branches, dangling idly in the breeze. The tree itself is mostly lush green, with flashes of colour along the branches. “The fruit..”

 _Ah._ The orange blossom glances upward as well.

During the summer, there are quite a few fruit that grow on this tree, and whatever is left by the time autumn comes around is stored for later. The same thing happens in the fall, in preparation for the winter, when there is not as many fruit.

Inaho shifts, smiling a bit. Slaine might not get hungry often, but he at least has an innate curiosity to try things. “Some of them are really sour,” he says, and Slaine makes a face. Inaho feels his smile widen, the thought of Slaine trying something sour amusing him – Slaine so far has vastly preferred sweeter things, save oranges as an exception. “You’ll try all of them, won’t you?” There are some he knows Slaine will enjoy for sure, but the sour ones will most likely be a miss.

“Only if you do,” is Slaine’s immediate retort, and Inaho is only mildly caught by surprise at the rose’s wit.

“I’ve already tried all of them, but I’ll eat whatever you don’t,” Inaho offers, and Slaine frowns at that, displeased with the turn of events. Eating whatever is left over should be no issue, since the rose eats in smaller portions than usual. It is debatable as to whether or not he will able to try everything before he gets full. “Let’s only get you a few of them, today,” he says as he pulls Slaine up the staircase, keeping close to the tree’s trunk. There is nothing to keep them from falling, should they walk near the edge, and though he would normally move much faster and not mind the edge, he does not want Slaine getting dizzy again. “Do you remember what a passion fruit is?” he questions, looking over his shoulder again.

Slaine gazes at him in something akin to suspicion, most likely not believing him, or thinking he just made something up. “..no,” he says after a few moments, and Inaho only nods.

It is only natural. Slaine seems to know little about their world. Whether that is due to the memories overriding what knowledge he should have had, or being born so far from where most flores reside.. Inaho is unsure.

“You’ll see,” Inaho says simply, smiling to himself.

A few days to themselves. Spending it here. However they want.

Slaine seems to be more than happy, now that they are here, and Inaho fully intends on keeping him content until they go back home.

-*-

“.. I don’t want that one,” Slaine says, glancing again at the small slice of fruit on someone’s table, looking a bit perturbed by the sight of it. Its peel is a dull, reddish colour, but the insides are green and yellow, and sort of resemble discoloured bubbles. It at least _smells_ sweet and fruity, but the sight of it does not do much for his appetite.

Inaho follows the blond’s eyes, and then looks back toward the fruit lined up before them. “That one’s a passion fruit,” he informs the other, who’s frown deepens.

“I.. thought it would be pink.. or red.. and shaped like a heart,” Slaine murmurs, and it is Inaho’s turn to be disturbed.

 _If fruit resembled hearts, then I highly doubt we would eat them,_ the orange blossom thinks to himself, unsure if anyone would be able to stomach it. Despite the taste, it would feel.. wrong, in a way. The animals would not care, but surely the other flores would know better. “.. which ones would you like to try, then?” he asks, not wishing to linger on the subject any longer.

Slaine looks between each fruit, considering his choices. They all sit upon a leaf, keeping the juice from staining the wooden counters, though some of the smaller fruit sits on small rocks. It would seem that they are served as is, daily, since they all seem to be fresh and this room, unlike the one in their home, is not dark or cool. “The.. pink one, and the orange one,” he finally says, though he tells Inaho, and not the flores behind the counter.

 _Shy. Or perhaps he doesn’t realise how this works, yet._ “Peach, apricot and a small slice of lemon,” Inaho tells the other flores, and the two of them remain quiet a moment as the violet grabs a small, thin piece of metal – Inaho recognises it as a broken off piece of steel, presumably taken from something that was left behind by the humans that used to live here. It shows no sign of wear, and is kept in relative good shape, aside from the odd shaping and the jagged handle.

There are no such things in the forest. They live deep enough in, far away from where the humans used to reside, and any traces have long since deteriorated with time, leaving only husks or scraps of rusted metal. The further they go out from the forest, and a little past the mountain, there are bigger, more obvious remains of the humans that once lived here. Pieces of pipe litter a field past the mountain, and broken, rusted lanterns lie forgotten and unusable in their current states. It has been several years since the humans left. They were long gone before even Yuki woke up, and their knowledge is passed down from flores to flores as needed.

“Inaho..” Slaine starts to say, low.

“It’s a knife,” Inaho says patiently, only nodding when the violet passes them a small leaf with their three slices atop it. Taking it, he grips it, careful not to let any slices slide off and drop onto the floor. “Let’s go sit down,” he says, helping Slaine along before his rose is able to say anything further and be overheard. Inaho knows his rose sticks out, a bit – with scarred arms, and a hat that he has not taken off since they arrived..

Still, no one has yet to approach or disturb them. The couple sit across from each other in a small, empty corner of the room. Inaho sets the leaf down and slides it toward the blond, watching as he picks up the apricot slice. Light trickles into the room from the open archway, and the scent of fruit wafts in the air with the bare breeze.

“We don’t have any metal in the forest,” he continues – _at least, not any that we’ve seen_ – “That’s why everything is made of glass. Or leaf.” Shifting, he glances between the other slices, positive that Slaine is unsure of what a lemon tastes like. The yellow peel resembles an orange’s, bumpy and rough looking, and it gives off the familiar scent of citrus, unlike the apricot and peach’s sweeter, gentler smell. _I’m not sure having sharp metal around is the best idea,_ he cannot help but think, disliking the thought of potential accidents. Dangerous, _sleep inducing_ accidents.

Slaine only nods as he slowly chews away at the apricot, taking his time as he chews on the peel. It would seem he enjoys this far more than the cherry, and he is not making a mess this time, with the apricot itself not being nearly as juicy, nor as big as the cherry slice had been.

 _.. the peach and lemon will be, though,_ Inaho realises after a moment, frowning somewhat. Peaches are juicy, and fragile, and as soon as Slaine bites into it, he will probably end up sticky and a mess again, just like he had been with the cherry slice. The lemon.. the lemon is an all around hazard, and Inaho will have to be careful when Slaine tastes it. “When you’re done eating, we’ll take a bath,” he says, and the blond lights up, “And then we’ll rest until nightfall. How does that sound?”

“What’re we..” Slaine starts to ask, stopping to cover his mouth and finish the last bit of apricot, taking the time to chew it thoroughly. “.. what’re we doing tonight?” he asks, grabbing the lemon, now.

Inaho’s eyes flicker between Slaine’s face and the lemon, and judging by the way he has yet to react, he figures Slaine has not yet figured out that the lemon is sour – far, far more tangy than any orange. “It’s a surprise,” he says, smiling a bit. _What we’re going to do, and what you’re about to do right now._

Smiling back, Slaine nods and returns his attention to the lemon slice in his hands. It is much smaller than the apricot and peach slice, though its scent is far stronger, as is the taste. “I.. look forward to it,” he says, slipping into that sweet tone again, about to take a bite –

“Slaine,” Inaho says, stopping him, “You don’t eat the peel of that one.”

“Oh..” Slaine starts to peel the rough, yellow skin away from the softer part of the fruit, and sets it down on the leaf once it has been properly peeled away. Though he has not bitten it yet, lemon juice already drips down his arm, where his nails punctured the slice. Its bright yellow colour nearly rivals the sun.

Inaho remains quiet as Slaine takes a slow bite out of the lemon, looking away when Slaine’s smile disappears, and a frown starts to grace his features.

Slaine chews, albeit reluctantly, and puts the rest of the lemon down on the leaf between them. It is hard to keep from cringing at the sour taste, and he dislikes the way the tangy taste lingers on his tongue and in his throat. “Inaho..”

“I apologise for souring the mood,” Inaho says, and Slaine makes a soft sound – another something between a poorly held back sigh and strangled laughter. “I’ll eat it, like I promised,” he says, taking it, “Eat the peach. It’s sweet.”

“Is it?” Slaine asks, not quite believing him.

Inaho smiles a bit as he looks back toward the other, eyes lingering on Slaine’s for a moment before he takes a bite out of it, wondering if it is just personal preference, or the fact that they are indeed from different sorts of plants that gives them their tastes. The sour taste is not hard for Inaho to handle at all, though he does not particularly seek out sour things, either. “You’ll like your surprise,” he says, lowering his tone, “I promise.”

Slaine hesitates, gently pressing his thumbs against the peach’s fuzzy skin. It feels soft, against his fingers, unfamiliar, and too, too fragile in his hands. “You’ll.. make it up to me?” he asks quietly, and Inaho nods, leaning forward to take his hand.

“I will.”

-*-

Inaho is quiet as he watches Slaine splash around in the water, allowing his own legs to dangle in the small pool.

The water is barely warm in the setting sun, though Slaine does not seem to mind in the least, taking care to wash his hair just as thoroughly as he normally does. The rose’s hat lies beside Inaho, dripping water, its petals slick and shiny as Slaine had taken the time to wash it as well. The juice that had gotten on him did not have much time to dry thankfully, and it was relatively easy to wash off. Slaine still smells vaguely sweet, and though he had not enjoyed the taste of it, he kept the lemon’s peel to use for later. It seems he now realises that the lemon is a kind of citrus fruit, like an orange. It lies beside his hat, still giving off its citrusy scent.

Slaine saves the peels for soaking, and spreads them around the house, finding their scent to be calming. It is obvious that Slaine heavily prefers the scent of citrus to other smells, going out of his way to pull a whole peel home whenever the opportunity to have one arises. Nina and Inko try to bring him the smaller citrus fruits – kumquats are more abundant in the winter, and Slaine’s first wintertime had been.. interesting. Inaho assumes it was during that time that Slaine grew to tolerate the tangy taste and appreciate the taste as well as the smell.

“Inaho,” Slaine calls, beckoning him to come in, “You don’t want to wash off?” The water laps at his thighs, too shallow to completely submerge themselves, but deep enough to warrant a proper bath. They cannot swim, after all – not safely, or for long periods of time. None of them have except Inko bothered to learn how, but even then, swimming is rarely a recreational activity among their kind.

Glancing between his rose and the pool, Inaho shifts a bit, feeling a frown start to form as he adjusts his legs. His feet are not quite cool, yet, but submerging himself or taking them out would allow the wind to chill him. “It’s getting cold,” he murmurs, though he already starts to doubt Slaine will simply let him be.

Slaine smiles and holds his hands out as he takes a few steps forward, patiently waiting.

It is all he needs to do.

Slaine does not need to ask or convince Inaho to join him. Reluctantly sliding off the pool’s edge and into the water, Inaho gently grasps Slaine’s hands, taking a few short steps forward through the water. The water is just as warm as he thought it would be – barely, a faint hint of warmth lingers in the pool, and he is starting to think the warmth might only be due to Slaine’s presence.

“Can I wash your hair?” Slaine asks, exchanging his grip on Inaho’s hands for his cheeks.

It is hard to remain still at the touch – the rose’s palms are cool against Inaho’s skin, extremely cool. _I suppose this is the least I can do after making him try that lemon,_ he figures, nodding as he sits down in the water. It comes up to his shoulders, and it feels a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Slaine will not force him to remain submerged like this for long.

Slaine gets started on his hair immediately, leaning somewhat against the orange blossom. Pulling petals and leaves that have naturally fallen off out and tossing them away, he watches for a moment as they do not travel far despite the breeze, floating silently atop the water’s surface.

Inaho tries not to move much, feeling Slaine’s fingers against his scalp, lingering. If the pool had a little less water, then they could take their time and linger around, but.. With the water level being higher than usual, soon, it will be hard to breathe and continue to get harder the longer they remain. “Slaine..” he says, raising his head a bit upon Slaine’s knee gently bumping is back. “If we go to sleep now, you’ll have enough energy for the night, won’t you?”

“For what?”

“Your surprise,” Inaho says, and Slaine smiles down at him, excited again. Ideally, Slaine will be well rested enough to wander around for a bit and hungry enough to eat a little more tonight. If not, perhaps they can do it another day, or tomorrow night – they will be here for quite awhile, but Inaho is unsure of how long he will have Slaine’s attention before he starts to get curious.

“Yes,” the rose says, nodding a bit.

They remain still a moment, and Inaho feels Slaine’s fingers against his ears now, gentle, lingering –

A short moment later, he feels Slaine’s lips against his forehead, and then they are gone, and Slaine is still smiling down at him, teal eyes flickering over Inaho’s mismatched own.

It starts to feel difficult to breathe.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Slaine says.

-*-

Their cabin is tiny. It is only one room, and it does not have a door, much like most of the dwellings flores live in. There are windows on each of the room’s three other sides, making for a well-lit, sunset bathed room, and the wooden boards are shiny in the sunlight.

Slaine is already asleep on their bed, an arm slung over his eyes to keep the light from waking him. It is surprisingly comfortable. There are more petals here than they have at home, and despite there being two of them, it does not seem to sink much under their combined weight. The rose’s hat lies off to the side, dry now, and sits upon the lemon peel in what Inaho thinks to be an attempt to infuse the scents together.

Inaho tries to remain quiet beside him, slowly chipping away at an almond. It is annoying, having to peel the bitter coat off, but the seed will taste far better without it. The rose has been asleep for about an hour now, allowing time for Inaho to go and fetch the seed without disturbing him. This will be his last meal, for today, and it will be well worth it when Slaine wakes up in a few hours.

Glancing downward, he breathes out a relieved sigh, glad that their first day had been relatively uneventful. Slaine had been calm. Composed. His rose had fit in perfectly, and no one bothered them, or approached them. Should the rest of their week go this smoothly, they can return home without worry about having caused a stir amongst the community, without having portrayed themselves as odd..

And Slaine has yet to worry about those memories in his head.

Biting off another small piece of almond, Inaho tears his gaze away and glances at the window, watching as the short, short grass stirs in the wind.

Nothing will happen during their time here. They will have their fun, and Inaho will make sure that his rose is as content as possible, his curiosity fulfilled, and then they will leave and _maybe_ come back another time. _Maybe_ when Slaine has a better grasp on himself and a better understanding of how things work.

 _Maybe,_ Inaho cannot help but think, looking back toward the other. “Sla–..”

“.. zuka..”

Inaho blinks at the utterance. “.. ‘zuka’..?” he repeats after his rose, unsure of why the fragmented word tugs at his heart. ‘ _Don’t call me that’,_ are the words on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill. _Don’t call me.._

Slaine is quiet beside him, breathing soft, even, slow, and whatever he is dreaming about does not seem to be _bad_.

“.. Slaine..?” Inaho calls, gently pushing the rose’s arm from his eyes. The blond is peaceful, undisturbed, and yet.. “I love you,” he says softly, and that earns him a sleepy smile, a warm, affectionate smile from a flores who might not be awake, but is perfectly able to hear him.

“.. love.. too, Inaho..” comes the murmured response, and Slaine turns on his side, pressing his forehead to Inaho’s thigh. It is warm. Just as quickly as he had been responsive, he succumbs to deep sleep, exhausted from their walking, from the new experiences. At least he will be tired enough to sleep through the night, once they are finished with their ‘surprise’.

‘Inaho’.

Not ‘Kaizuka’.

Inaho starts to go back to finishing his almond, though he stops when he realises the thought that had passed through his head. Unfamiliar, and yet vaguely familiar, like Slaine had been, like the memories in their heads – _My name isn’t ‘Kaizuka’._

-*-

Nightfall comes, and Slaine wanders around the cabin in a drowsy daze in an attempt to wake himself up. His footsteps are quiet against the wooden floors, low and muffled as he shuffles around.

Inaho watches him, ensuring that Slaine does not fall over or bump into the wall in his half-asleep state. His heart feels odd in his chest. Wary. Heavy. “Slaine..” he calls, earning the blond’s attention, “What.. were you dreaming about?” The question comes out soft, hesitant.

Afraid.

The question earns him a smile, in spite of his fear. “About you,” Slaine answers, and it only furthers Inaho’s confusion. Walking back over, the rose sits himself down in front of the other, calm and at ease. “You were telling me how much you loved me, and..” Trailing off, he pauses, giving into thought.

“And..?”

“And.. we..” Slaine blinks, starting to frown. “We.. we talked about roses,” he continues, slow, struggling with the memory. Another pause. A longer one. The rose shifts a bit, pulling at stray strands of his hair. The frown on his features remains, until, “Roses are tall.”

“They are,” Inaho agrees, unsure of where this is going. At their size, everything is ‘tall’. Barely being able to recall being human does not give quite the comparison either, save for the fact that Slaine mentioned being _given_ roses.

“You said.. you would grow white roses for me,” Slaine finally says, and he is smiling again, having recollected the most important detail of the memory, “After I..” His smile does not falter, and he exhales, looking relieved.

White roses. Tall, elegant, white roses, for his most important person. A bouquet of red ones, planting white ones..

 _If.. he was dreaming about me, then.._ “You called me ‘Kaizuka’,” Inaho says, and Slaine blinks, surprised.

“I.. did?” Slaine asks, flustered now. Looking away, embarrassed, he murmurs, “That’s.. what I used to call you, before.. You don’t remember?”

Inaho shakes his head, confused, still. “My name is ‘Inaho’.”

Slaine remains looking out the window for a moment, quiet. The wind is light, breezing by the grass and picking up petals to fly along with it. They look like tiny clouds, floating on by, though they are not nearly as fluffy enough. At least they are soft. And tangible. “I never introduced myself, did I?” he asks, quiet, “Because you picked my name. Before I even knew what I was. Who I was. But you knew.” Gently squeezing Inaho’s hand, he leans in, pressing his lips to the corner of Inaho’s own. “I’m Slaine Troyard. And you’re Inaho Kaizuka. It’s nice to meet you.”

Inaho gazes back at the other, feeling his heart catch in his throat. _You really do only remember the good parts, don’t you? And I remember.. the bittersweet parts. When I hurt you._ “Slaine..”

“Yes?” Slaine asks, smiling again, warm.

“You’re happy, aren’t you?”

Slaine softens, teal eyes lingering over Inaho’s mismatched ones. “Yes,” he whispers, nodding, “I’m happy, here. With you.”

Inaho breathes out, relieved. Smiling back, he lets his grip on Slaine’s hand relax, worry dissipating. Slaine’s warmth lingers against the corner of his lips, soft and familiar, and his heart starts to settle down.

Brushing another tuft of near-white from his face with his free hand, Slaine’s smile slowly turns sheepish the longer they remain silent in their room, and he averts his gaze from Inaho’s own.

Shy, again. As bold as Slaine is at times, it is so easy for his mood to flip. It seems he is a little slow when it comes to reading the mood. “It’s.. ah.. a good thing we’re alone, isn’t it?” he questions, shifting a bit, “If anyone had heard me, they would’ve been confu–..”

Inaho cuts him off with a kiss, taking care to linger longer this time, and feels Slaine go tense against him for a short moment, caught by surprise.

The rose pulls away only after applying _some_ pressure in return, and looks away again, teal eyes fixed firmly on the opening to their cabin.

“Let’s take a walk,” Inaho suggests, hoping to alleviate Slaine’s fluster with something he knows the other will enjoy – more alone time, in a less intimate, more open environment. The lake looks most beautiful at night, after all, with dozens of fireflies floating over the water and casting a warm, dancing glow. “Come on,” he says, soft as he pulls the both of them to their feet, “You’re still excited for your surprise, aren’t you?”

The reminder is enough to cause Slaine to nod, and he bends down a bit to pick up his hat, loosely gripping the headband in his free hand.

 _I don’t have to remind him,_ Inaho realises, relieved as Slaine starts to pull his hat over his head. The orange blossom helps the other with his hair, pulling his bangs from under the top petal flap, fingers lingering just beside his eye. “This is my favourite colour,” he murmurs, and Slaine blinks at him, surprised again.

“My.. eyes are?”

Inaho nods, fixing the rest of Slaine's fringe. The hat truly does make it harder to decipher what kind of flores he is – not impossible, but at least difficult to younger ones, who have not quite seen many others, yet.

Slaine's petals are shorter than that of a tulip, much shorter than that of a sunflower.. They are thicker than that of a delphinium, and they most resemble a buttercup's petals, though they are not yellow.

Inko's petals are a mess of blue and purple. Calm is as bright as the sun. Nina is as warm as a firefly.

Slaine once made the comment that Yuki and Inaho resemble stars. Inaho did not know what he meant until Slaine drew it out for him – a 'star', with a shape incredibly similar to an orange blossom.

_And you.._

“Thank you,” Slaine says, smiling a bit, “Let’s take our walk, then.” Starting to pull Inaho along with him, their fingers loosely laced together. The night air is crisp, not a hint of humidity or vapor hanging in the air, despite them being so close to the lake. The grass is cool under them in the nighttime, the dirt even cooler, having lost all traces of warmth from the daytime sun. “It’s really nice, out..”

_.. you’re my small miracle._

-*-

“Close your eyes,” Slaine says, firm.

Inaho stares at his rose, unsure if he is liking this particular idea.

The water quietly splashes beside them, its surface uneven with ripples as the fish try to catch some fireflies to feast upon. They are small fish, but compared to the flores, they are far, far too large – the fish could easily swallow them whole, if they wished. Thankfully, like the birds and most other creatures, thousands of years has taught them that flores are not the best snack.

Slaine is kneeling in front of him, something akin to a mischievous smile on his lips, and Inaho has so far been unable to figure out what he is planning. “Close your eyes, Inaho,” he repeats, a little gentler this time.

The change in tone does not help. But Slaine's behaviour has thus far been normal, _improved_ even, since his fall a few weeks ago. There has been no indication that anything has changed, that what had happened before will happen again. It could have been a one off thing. A temporary lapse in judgement and thought. There is a real chance that Slaine is fine, now.

With that in mind, Inaho closes his eyes as he sits beside the lake’s edge.

Slaine breathes out in front of him, presumably surprised and pleased – he most likely did not expect Inaho to do it. “Stay right there,” he says, excited now, “and keep your eyes shut!”

Inaho nods, digging his nails into his palm.

They had a good day today. A lovely day. Inaho got to kiss his rose and spend hours alone with him, trying new things and being together in a new place..

_Nothing bad will happen._

Inaho remains still even as Slaine gets up and wanders off, feet quietly crushing the grass and torn, dead leaves beneath them, though the sound does not disappear entirely.

It means Slaine has not gone _too far_.

 _Nothing bad will happen,_ he stresses. How could it, when they are in one of the most safest places for them to be? In a giant base nestled between mountains, safe from bigger animals that might accidentally harm them, in a giant base full of hundreds of flores, hundreds of pairs of eyes to keep a lookout?

The orange blossom forces a breath out, and inhales again, shaky, tasting something bitter on his tongue. _Nothing bad will.._

Only the splashing of the fish and the buzzing and hum of the fireflies keep the air busy, though it all pales in comparison to the sound of Inaho's own heart in his ears. It is dangerously erratic, on the verge of making it hard to breathe.

“Ina–..”

A cut off call.

A soft, surprised gasp.

A loud, heart stopping splash.

Immediately opening his eyes, Inaho holds his breath, hoping that what he had heard is not what had just happened. “Slaine,” he calls, getting to his feet – his legs feel like sap underneath him, and each step threatens to make him fall back down to the cool, cool earth. The rose is not in sight.

No response.

“Slaine,” he tries again, hurrying his clumsy steps.

The fish are splashing frantically a bit away from him, panicked, and the fireflies are hovering above the spot, drawn by the sound and the water droplets that the fish are throwing up into the air. Getting down on his knees at the lake’s edge, Inaho peers into the water, trying to find a trace of blue or white or the pink from Slaine’s hat. There are flashes of gold, black, silver.. Glimpses of shiny orange, dark, dark grey, flashes of scaly white..

“Slaine,” Inaho says a third time, and it comes out strained, a mere whisper now, barely audible over the erratic pounding of his heart.

The fish disperse after a few moments, and there is not a single trace of his rose in the clear water. Not Slaine. Not his hat, floating atop the surface. Not any petals, that may have fallen or gotten torn off during the fish’s frenzy.

It takes a few moments for that realisation to hit.

Slaine is not here. Slaine is not in the water.

_Slaine is.._

Inaho feels his nails dig into his palms, breaking the skin.

The first exhale comes out shaky and short, shock still having not quite sit in.

The second does not come out at all – Inaho swallows it down, and it feels like a hard ball of regret in his throat, tastes of something bittersweet as it settles where his heart is.

The third comes out a broken laugh, and the orange blossom starts to shake his head, wondering why he ever thought this was a good idea. They should have waited. They should have waited quite some time, to ensure Slaine was ready, to ensure he would not act oddly, and be more familiar with their new world.

Ill planning had cost him Slaine. Lack of thought had cost him his rose.

Losing Slaine the second time, it just feels numb.

-*-

Slaine’s breathing is bare, barely audible as he rests against the wall. Water drips off of his hair and skin, pooling under him. It is lukewarm, now, and each droplet that falls and lands in the pool echoes in the room, quiet, low, constant. The rose’s skin is tinged a light blue, and his near-white hair is soaked through; it will take quite some time for his body to regulate itself and dry out properly. Completely still, he appears to be the image of permanent sleep, the visage of death.

Harklight is quiet as he cleans up the room, brushing away the pink petals that litter the room. They are small, curved, and resemble Slaine’s, though they vary from whitish pink to a deeper, brighter shade.

Stealing glances at the slumbering blond, he cannot help but sigh, feeling something like resentment in his throat. “Why were you with _him_?” he questions, unable to understand why Slaine would look at someone he loathed with such fondness. They had been all too familiar with one another, far too close, too affectionate.

And he does not understand _why_.

Harklight breathes out, shaking his head. “.. you’ll wake up, soon,” he mumbles, tearing his navy eyes away.

Slaine will be fine when he awakens. A little dizzy maybe, and rightfully confused and disoriented.. but thankfully, the rose was not submerged for too long under the water, and there should be no lasting damage or ill effects lingering for long.

And when he wakes up.. they will be able to talk about everything they have missed.

Letting himself out of the room, he spares the slumbering rose one last glance before walking down the hall, the moonlight just enough to light his way back to his own room. It is quiet, with only the low, low humming of fireflies to keep his ears occupied. If Slaine had been awake, they could have talked, but.. “I’ll wait,” he murmurs, and it comes out barely audible.

Waiting two hundred years has been difficult. Running errands, attending to his duties, doing _something_ to make the time pass by, with only one person whom he could somewhat call a friend. Even then, however.. the two of them are not close. At all. She serves more as an authority figure rather than a companion. If Slaine had been there to pass the time with, then.. it would have been more bearable.

Turning into his room, he glaces upward at the tiny window in the wall above him before sitting down before a flower petal, bathed in moonlight. There are no leaves to obstruct the light and cast a shadow, and this room is probably one of the most lit there is, especially when compared to the halls. Leaning over the petal, he starts to attend to the last of his tasks, writing runes on a flower petal. The shortened needle in between his fingers acts as a pen of sorts, silver and thin and far too small to be used for much else. The other end of it is broken and slightly rusted, jagged, and does not function well at all for what this job entails.

‘Keep record of our history’.

-*-

It is a few hours later when a mass of white passes the doorway to Harklight’s room. Tired, and drowsy, it takes a moment for the flores to realise that there should be no one up at this hour, wandering around. There are not many flores allowed in this particular area to begin with, and visitation during the day is restricted. Which means..

Slowly getting up from his chair and temporarily abandoning his post, he steps out into the doorway, peering out into the hall. The bare moonlight flickering in through the window casts his shadow on the floor before him, though it is broken, swaying with the leaves and wind outside.

The rose is walking around on his own, but his steps are a bit uneven and shaky, most likely due to not quite resting properly enough after being waterlogged. Slaine seems to be completely dry at least, and that blue tinge from his skin has gone.

“Slaine..?” Harklight calls, the name leaving his lips before he can think of what consequences it may have.

Slaine turns to face him immediately, visibly startled by the sudden call. The halls are near silent, the fireflies flying far too high to fill the area with noise. Their dim lights cast long, dancing shadows across the floor, just barely illuminating the way. They almost resemble the swaying leaves outside. “Who.. are..?” he asks as he shifts, pulling a bit at his hat. With it on, it is less obvious that he is a rose, and as Harklight looks at him, he is starting to suspect that that may have been the point.

“.. you.. don’t..” Harklight trails off, realising that asking such a question may prove ill for Slaine’s current state.

“When I jumped into the lake, you..” Slaine shifts, gaze flickering between Harklight’s navy eyes and the petals further down his arms. The ones closer near his wrist and hands are tinged crimson red at the tips, though the white stands out amongst dark, dark hair and his dark eyes. They are thinner than Inaho’s are, but they look similar. “You’re..”

The flores seems vaguely familiar, as if they have met before, but he is unable to recall exactly _where_.

In one of his dreams, maybe – most of his dreams are forgotten rather quickly upon waking up, and the ones about Inaho are the easiest to recall, but.. “Have we.. met before?” Slaine asks, quiet.

“.. no. We haven’t,” Harklight finally says.

It is a lie.

Bowing politely, he feels his heart lodge itself in his throat, and his gaze slips to the floor. “I’m Harklight,” he introduces himself, “the aide to the scholars that live here.”

Each breath feels painful and suffocating.

Two hundred years. It has taken _two hundred years_ for Slaine to _finally_ wake up, and he had woken up in the company of the person who had hurt him the most. Has spent time, _intimate_ time with the person who hurt him the most. And Harklight _still_ does not understand why, when Slaine detested that person, resented him, loathed him.

The rose looks away from him, something between pain and confusion in his teal eyes. “If we’ve never met before, then how did you know my name?” he asks softly, and Harklight realises his mistake. As muddled as his head is from the lake water, Slaine is lucid enough to catch the fact that something feels off. Wrong. Inaho is not here, and this does not seem to be anywhere near the lake. “I’m leaving,” he says, taking a few steps backward, “Thank you, for pulling me out of the lake, but..”

Harklight hesitates, fighting the urge to prevent Slaine from leaving.

Slaine does not remember. He does not remember, so..

Before Slaine can run off, Harklight says, “Two lefts, two rights, a left and then one right. Can you remember that?” The words taste bitter in his mouth, and he is sure just this will have consequences later on.

Slaine is caught off-guard by the information, but relaxes after a moment, a small smile starting to pull at his lips. Relief flashes in his eyes, and he waves at the other as he starts to make his way down the hall again. “Thank you, Harklight,” he says quietly before he disappears.

-*-

Breathing out softly, Slaine tries to shake off the odd feeling from before.

The rose never intended on purposefully jumping into the water and harming himself. Inaho has made it clear how badly it hurts when Slaine sleeps for an extended period, how it hurts both his heart and his mental state, and Slaine tries his best to forgo his curiosity in favour of safety, but..

“I.. have to tell him what happened, don't I..?” he muses aloud, feeling his heart start to ache.

Inaho will be upset – there is no doubt he _already_ is, with Slaine being unable to tell how long he had been out. Slaine does not want the orange blossom to panic, does not want to worry his orange blossom again.

“I..” Slaine hesitates as he nears the lake, glancing up at the sky. It is hard to tell how much time has passed; the sky is still dark, and the fireflies still float quietly above the water’s surface.. It does not seem as if the sun will be rising, soon.

Part of him hopes Inaho will be asleep, like he should be, but another part of him _knows_ that Inaho would not give up so easily, especially after such an unexpected disappearance. “Because.. I jumped, he..”

Harklight taking him to that place, underneath the tree, was not the best idea, either. The older flores had been somewhat familiar, vaguely, barely. Had been someone from that other world, no doubt, though who he was is unclear. Someone close, judging from how familiarly he had acted. But he cannot remember Harklight ever being anywhere near that room he had been in.

Being unable to remember is frustrating. Things would be so much easier if he could recall exactly how things were, if he could remember what had happened leading up to waking up here. Then perhaps he could find whatever it is he is looking for in this world.

Continuing on, Slaine breathes in, trying to calm his nervous heart.

The water splashes quietly beside him, fish still aiming to catch the light bugs. For a moment, when he had been in the water, he had felt them bump into him, and it had _not_ felt nice. They were cold, and oddly smooth, and they were _huge_. It was _terrifying_ , not having Inaho there to help him, though he had not been conscious for long before Harklight pulled him out.

It is clear now, clear as water, why Inaho does not ever want him near any amount of liquid.

Resisting the urge to ball his hands in fists, or pull at his hair, or grip his arms, the rose slowly makes his way toward their cabin, not seeing his orange blossom near the lake. It is a near constant reminder he has to tell himself – _don't injure the petals_ – so that he does not hurt himself any further. “Inaho..” he mumbles under his breath, hesitating upon seeing the brunet’s figure, sound asleep in their bed. He takes slow steps inside, listening to the wood creak softly under his feet, and realises that though Inaho is not asleep, it is not peaceful on the least.

Inaho looks as if he has been crying, cheeks streaked with tears, eyes puffy and irritated.

Removing his hat, Slaine sets it down beside him, smoothing it before returning his attention to Inaho. Guilt again tugs at his weak heart. “I.. Inaho..” he calls, gently brushing the brunet's hair back, fingers hesitating just above his eyes. “Inaho..?”

The orange blossom eventually stirs awake. “Who..”

Slaine’s heart feels like a rock in his throat. Rough. Heavy. He does not swallow it and remains still as he stares down at Inaho, still and silent until the brunet suddenly sits up and pulls him into a tight hug. “I-Ina–..”

“ _What happened?_ ”

Slaine freezes at the whisper in his ear, and it feels painful, trying to speak over his heart.

Inaho's voice is strained.

Shaky. Upset.

Just like it is each time something bad happens, but it feels _worse_ , this time, and threatens to break his heart. The brunet's hand feels firm against the back of his head – gentle enough to not tear any petals or leaves, but tight enough that Slaine quickly realises that what happened was different, this time.

“I..” Just the one word hurts, and he has to close his mouth and try again.

The truth.

“I.. jumped,” Slaine says, slow, careful, “I'm.. I'm so–..”

Slaine only freezes further when Inaho tightens his grip even more, hears Inaho’s breath catch in his ear.

“I thought you were gone, again. I thought you were gone, and I looked, and I couldn't find you anywhere.”

_Strained. Stressed. Shaky._

Inaho is an utter mess against him, lacking any and all the composure that usually holds him together.

It feels hard to breathe again.

“Never do that again.”

Slaine swallows his heart. “Okay,” he promises, finally hugging the brunet back, blinking tears from his eyes. They get warmer the longer they stay like this, and they drip down his chin and onto Inaho's shoulder. It is hard, reminding himself not to hold on too tightly and dig his nails into Inaho's bare back. “I.. I promise, not to ever..” The words are stuck in his throat.

It takes more than a few moments for Inaho to finally relax his grip, and Slaine listens as his orange blossom breathes out, shaky. Remaining still as the brunet cups his face, he finds himself unable to say anything under Inaho’s gaze.

Inaho's mismatched eyes are narrowed, and he is still visibly distressed, but it seems he is not angry. “Are you feeling better?” he asks, and his voice is still a bit uneven, threatening to break – it _would_ break, if Slaine had gotten back any later, if he had not returned at all.

“Y.. yes, I..” Slaine nods, meeting Inaho's eyes.

He does not want to do this again.

Jumping off flowers, diving into lakes.. It makes his head hurt with memories that should not even be there. It makes things much harder than they need to be.

“What's wrong.. with me..?” the rose asks, soft as more tears blur his vision. These ones are hot and they taste sweet against his lips, like juice that has been sitting out in the sun for far too long.

Inaho smiles, strained still, and shakes his head. “You still don't know what you're looking for.”

-*-*-

Slaine wakes up slowly, drowsy, head less muddled than it had been after being waterlogged. Vision adjusting slowly, he finds himself gazing at blurry, muddy crimson, brown and white.

It takes him a second to figure out why.

“A-ah..” Allowing his vision to adjust a bit more, he murmurs, “Inaho..”

Inaho remains quiet as he stares at the other, lacing their fingers together when Slaine starts to pull away from him.

Slaine bites on his lip, noting the firm pressure Inaho has on him. “Good.. morning..” he says softly, and Inaho relaxes again, relieved.

“Good morning, Slaine.”

The rose swallows, feeling his heart start to pick up again, nervous. “Could you.. please let go of me?” he asks, quiet, and his gaze again flickers to the window.

It is warm. Abnormally warm. All because Inaho is much, _much_ closer than he usually is, despite it being summer and there being heavy humidity in the air. The morning breeze does not do much to relieve the shared warmth between them, and it is already obvious that today is going to be an uncomfortable day to be outside.

Inaho stares at the other for a moment more before letting go of his hand, and instead wraps his arms around Slaine's neck – it is uncomfortable and clumsy with the two of them lying on their sides, and Slaine feels Inaho's breath against his ear. Inaho feels Slaine’s heart pound against his chest, erratic, nervous, unsteady. It is going far, far too fast, but it is a sign that he is alive.

“I-Inaho..” Slaine says again, flustered now.

The orange blossom does not adjust himself. “We can’t die,” he murmurs, low, “If something had happened to you, we wouldn’t get to do this. You wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn't know how important you are.” Pausing, he breathes in, trying to relieve his aching heart, the painful thoughts in his head. Slaine’s heart steadily beats, hard enough for him to still feel. “You would have never woken up, and I would have lost you,” he continues, “We would've lost our second chance.”

Slaine goes quiet, realising just what about last night had been different.

Inaho has explained it to him, before. Going to sleep and never waking up again is the flores equivalent to death. Their bodies do not decay, or rot, nor does anything particularly bad happen to them outside of injury. Had Slaine been swallowed up by those fish, or sunk to the bottom.. there would be nothing of him left. Nothing for Inaho to mourn. There would be no trace of his existence.

Tightening his hold on his rose again, Inaho pulls Slaine just the slightest bit closer – this is as close as they have ever been. When they seek the other’s warmth during the night, it is not nearly as close as this.

 _I.. don’t want.._ “I’ll help you find whatever it is you’re looking for,” he says, “We’ll look. Together. So you don’t get hurt anymore.” _Because.. I can’t.._

_I can’t lose you again. Not again._

“.. okay,” Slaine whispers, nodding a bit.

The word, agreement, is relieving.

Inaho lets out the breath he had been holding in and loosens his grip just enough for Slaine to pull away and look at him.

Slaine does, just enough so that they are not pressed up against one another, and the warmth is not suffocating. It feels a bit better this way, though they will both definitely need to go take a bath and cool down later in the day, if this heat keeps up. The fluster seems to be gone, replaced with gentle, pained understanding. “I.. think I met someone I used to know,” he says, soft, and he feels Inaho’s fingers at the back of his neck.

“Is that what you’re looking for?” Inaho asks, trying not to let his gaze slip to the scar ‘round Slaine’s neck. It does not feel any different against his fingertips, but he knows it is there, has memorised its shape.

The people Slaine used to know are probably all here. Somewhere. Either on the base, or scattered about their vast, free world – including the people who had hurt him.

It might not be the best idea, to seek them out, but.. _If this is what he wants.._

“.. maybe,” Slaine murmurs, seeming unsure.

It is only natural he is uncertain. Those memories in his head are confusing and incomplete, and he seems to remember even less than Inaho does.

 _I remembered the world outside of his room,_ Inaho thinks to himself, continuing to run his fingers along Slaine's scar, _He seems to remember very little outside of things that don't concern me. And I can't remember anything about Yuki-nee, or.._ “I'll be here.. to help you ignore that feeling,” he says, soft, “It's easier with me, isn't it?”

Slaine nods again, easing into a small, bittersweet smile, “It's.. easier, with you..”

Last night, he had only intended on fetching them a small wildberry he had seen, for the two of them to enjoy on their nighttime outing together. It had almost been enough, by itself. _Almost_. If Inaho had been closer, both times.. Slaine probably would not have jumped.

Inaho returns the smile, having a better idea of what to do to ensure his rose does not come to anymore harm.

They are quiet for a short moment, and Inaho tries to focus on Slaine's breathing, something that had been horribly absent for quite some time last night.

There will be no third chance. Luck can only go so well for them.

Inaho stops tracing his fingers along Slaine's scar, allowing them to linger. The back of Slaine's neck is warm, and sometimes he can feel the rose’s heartbeat, depending on where he presses. “.. Slaine?” he calls, soft.

Slaine lowers his gaze a bit, meeting Inaho’s mismatched eyes again. The wind has not picked up much, and it is still hot like this, but more bearable than it had been a few moments ago. There are pieces of grass and crumbled leaves flying outside, slowly, drifting in the faint breeze, and they had been temporary distractions – Inaho is still far, far too close to warrant any real thought outside of their proximity.

Inaho, by himself, makes for an incredibly distracting train of thought.

“I want to meet them. That flores you know,” Inaho says, and his rose seems surprised by the request, taken off-guard. _I want to know why they took you instead of leaving you in my care,_ he thinks, trying not to frown at the thought. He had been right there, just a call away – someone _deliberately_ took Slaine from him, and then let him go, for whatever reason.

It is odd, that the flores had taken Slaine. But if it had been someone Slaine used to know..

“Today?” Slaine asks.

There is slight disappointment in his voice, and it only takes a moment for Inaho to figure out why.

 _Our date,_ Inaho thinks to himself, gaze flickering toward the open doorway. It is still early, and Slaine needs to eat or drink something so he can recover some more of his energy – it seems the water did not do too much damage, thankfully. “We can get breakfast,” he suggests, and that seems to ease Slaine into a smile, “And then we can go look for..”

“Harklight,” Slaine supplies.

The name causes something to settle in his chest, and then drop to his stomach. It feels heavy.

“.. we’ll look for ‘Harklight’,” Inaho says, trying to ignore the feeling.

The name is familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time, like Slaine had been, although.. _I don’t think this ‘Harklight’ is going to like me._

-*-

With the tree’s heavy shadow shielding most of the base’s ground area, it is a little less troublesome to wander around in the overpowering sunshine. The shade provides solace from the sun overhead, though the shadows are still moving, swaying in the wind, just as they had been yesterday. Despite the inconsistent shade, the dirt and short grass under their feet is not scorching, and Slaine seems content with his large canteen of juice. It is cold enough to keep his temperature down, though he shows no signs of overheating.

After eating a small breakfast – Slaine ends up not finishing his portion, leaving Inaho to finish it for him – they went for a short walk before starting off toward where Harklight had taken Slaine last night. It had taken some convincing to have Slaine eat something in the first place; as soon as he learnt there was juice on the upper levels, he had only wanted that. _Several cups_ of that.

Inaho compromised by getting him a large canteen full of orange juice, which the rose has been sipping from.

“.. around here?” Inaho asks, coming to a slow stop. Rather than leading, like he probably should be, Slaine is following behind him, loosely gripping his hand.

It gets darker and darker the more they go ‘round the tree. Taller patches of grass shield them further from the sun, and there are smaller trees and berry bushes spread around, and the foliage muffles the already quiet base even further. Even shouting, the flores are not loud, and they have to be close together to hear each other if there is any excess noise or wind. There are few flores out here, most of them tending to the rooms inside, or out gathering food, or patrolling the tunnels. There are few flores with designated ‘jobs’; most of them wander around doing as they please, contributing in their own ways.

“A little more,” Slaine says, able to recall where the entrance had been despite it being nighttime.

They continue on.

Seeing in the dark, especially without any fireflies or light, had been difficult, but the moonlight had helped. The halls inside had been tall, but there had been fireflies floating about, dimly lighting his way. “Harklight.. kind of looked like you,” he continues, slow, thoughtful. Without remembering the names of other flowers, it is hard to say exactly what the flores had been. “His petals did, but they were.. red, near his wrist.. and pointy..”

 _Pointed white and red petals? Like mine?_ Inaho wonders, unable to guess what Harklight might have been without more information, _I really should take him to see more flowers so he can learn everything, like he was supposed to.._ “What did the bloom on his head look like?” he asks, though he has a feeling he will know who ‘Harklight’ is once they see him.

“It was.. white.. and there were dozens of petals..”

_Not a tulip. Or a rose._

It is difficult to think of a flower that meets all of that criteria. The flowers with dozens of petals generally have short, curved, wide ones, like Slaine, or they look like a mess of thin, fragile petals, like a..

_Dandelion? But those are yellow.._

“Inaho, there,” Slaine says, pulling them a bit closer to the tree, careful to mind his head near the roots. Their height difference is slight, but it is enough – the rose has bumped his head often enough on twigs to know. The entrance is obscured, a bit, by roots and shadow, and barely any light trickles into what looks to be a hall.

Inaho tries not to frown, again. _Isn’t this where_ **they** _live..?_ he starts to wonder, recalling the rumours of some kind of labyrinth under the tree.

Though the base has no one in charge of it, there _are_ flores responsible for the distribution of knowledge and history, and they settle the extremely rare disagreement between any flores. There are two of them, sisters, and.. they are roses. Like all of the ones in the past have been.

Glancing toward his own rose, Inaho feels that heavy feeling in his chest return. _Someone.. he used to know.._

“I.. woke up in a room by myself,” Slaine says, soft, “Is that where you want me to take you?”

The couple linger at the hall’s entrance, straining their eyes to see in the dim light. It does not look as if there are fireflies here in the daytime, most likely having wandered off toward the tunnels to hide from birds and anything else that may linger nearby. The entrance is tall enough for a bird to wander in, and one probably has, quite a few times already, but it looks to be empty enough right now.

“Do you remember how to get back?” Inaho asks.

Getting lost here would be dangerous, just like it would be getting lost in the tunnels. The rumours regarding the labyrinth are vague, at best, and meant to terrify, at worse. ‘Flores have gotten lost and are permanently asleep inside’. ‘The halls are filled with hundreds of flores that have never woken up’.

Inaho halts the thoughts, realising that the majority of rumours stem from trying to frighten the younger flores into behaving and not wandering around places they are probably not supposed to be. Like what he is about to do right now, with someone who barely remembers what a cherry is.

Their footsteps are quiet, low, too soft to echo in the hall and they take a few, hesitant steps forward. Slaine sticks close to one side of the wall, and each small step already pushes them further into the dark. “I remember,” he says, glancing backward toward the other, “Do you want to keep going?” There were no windows he can recall, no moonlight to light his way. There had just been the fireflies, floating way up high and casting dancing, wavering shadows that had not been been that reliable.

“.. yes,” Inaho says, trusting that his rose will be able to navigate them through properly, and not lose them in the labyrinth. Though either of them are not the most reliable when it comes to memory, he is sure Slaine would not attempt this if he was not sure he could do it. Like with the flower, he _had_ been somewhat sure he could climb it.. The execution at the end had just been lacking. “Don’t let go of my hand,” he says, and he feels Slaine tighten his grip in response, something that causes his unease to settle, a bit.

“I won’t let go.”

-*-

It is almost pitch dark in the labyrinth.

Inaho is just barely able to make out Slaine’s lean figure in front of him, his rose a mere silhouette against the darkness. It is easier, since they are moving – Slaine and his figure stand out, with his hat and hair that moves with each step they take.

It is cool, in here. There is no trace of the summer heat that had plagued them when they woke up, and Slaine’s hand is almost cold in his own, with no sunlight to light their way or keep them warm. The walls feel smooth when they brush against them, straying too close, and it feels like the wood underneath their feet.

So far, there has not been even a trace of sunlight. Each corner is shadowed, and when they reach what Inaho assumes to be an intersection of halls, none of them are lit up or distinguishable from one another.

Slaine’s memory has been serving them well. He keeps an even pace as they go along, only slowing down to take small sips from his canteen, which the two of them pass between them. Without the sunlight, they will have to be careful, lest they run out of energy while down here. The tunnels, at least, had scattered patches of sunlight filtering in through the ceiling.

Inaho doubts his rose can see much in front of him, either, despite their eyes having had time to adjust now.

The further they go, the more it seems like the rumours are true.

Getting lost here would be even easier than getting lost in the tunnels, far more dangerous to one of their kind.

The flores are not meant to function well without the sun.

“Inaho..”

“Tired?” Inaho asks, hearing it in Slaine’s voice. _This was a bad idea._

Slaine was confident in that he would be able to get them there without getting lost. That much they could count on, and though Inaho had been wary, he did not doubt his rose’s capability.

They did not account for a complete lack of sunlight.

“How much further?”

“A few more minutes..” Slaine answers. At least the labyrinth is not without air. There is plenty of it, though it is a bit heavy and stuffy, and it tastes of something old.

“A few more minutes, and we can rest, then,” Inaho says, encouraging him. The comment earns him a gentle squeeze, a silent ‘okay’.

As much as Slaine loves the dark and the nighttime, this is not quite the same thing. There is no moonlight to keep them somewhat awake, no stars to look at. This darkness is oppressive, forced, and feels nowhere as pleasant as the nighttime does.

They are quiet for a few moments as they go along, nothing but their padding footsteps and the soft sound of Slaine’s orange juice sloshing around in its canteen. It has gotten louder since he drank from it last – with less juice to take up space, the remaining juice has more to move around in. Perhaps they should have gotten a second one, for the trip out, but then again, Inaho did not know it would be completely dark.

“.. you.. said.. your favourite colour was the colour of my eyes,” Slaine says, slow, lowering his voice, “Mine is red.” A distraction. An easy one, to keep his mind off of the fact that he is starting to fall asleep and get drowsy. “Red, like.. the colour of your eyes.. and the roses you brought me.”

Inaho blinks at the admission, caught off-guard. ‘ _Red, like my’..? My eyes aren't.._ Bringing his free hand to his eye, he gazes after the other.

‘ _I’ve always hated_ **that** _colour, you know. Even now, I..’_

“I think it was was.. the first gift someone gave me, in a long time,” Slaine murmurs, “They were.. the only colourful thing I had, in that room.”

Inaho sensesa smile on the rose's lips, Slaine’stone bittersweet. Fingers lingering just under his eye, he remembers that this one is in fact a muddy crimson, and not the dark brown that is his other eye. They probably never matched. It just took him several years to notice, that voice in his head only made things far more confusing, tried to convince him he was human.

Yuki's eyes are lighter in shade. Warmer. Slaine's eyes are bright, and full of life.

 _You still hate_ **that** _colour, don’t you? Even if you like what you associate it with?_ Inaho’s heart catches at the memory. Though they had ended up falling in love later on, it had already been far too late for the both of them. The orange blossom’s crimson eye taunts him with something he cannot remember, aches too much if he tries to recall. Ignoring the feeling, he drops his hand to his side.

_Whatever happened doesn’t matter._

“Slaine,” he calls, wanting to change the subject before they linger too long on it, “When we get back, we’ll finish our date. What do you want to do, for the rest of the week?”

Slaine’s grip tightens a bit, excited. “A.. boat ride. I want to take a boat ride, to see the fish.” Their scales had been beautiful, under the water, though they had been blurry and fuzzy – vague, shiny specks with the water in his eyes. Admiring them from above the water seems the safest, so he is not swallowed whole. Hurrying on, he tightens his grip further on Inaho’s hand and rounds a corner – the two of them come to a slow stop when light finally trickles in from what looks to be a side room.

The light is not strong. It moves on the floor, rustles like the shadows had done outside.

It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust, even with the slight light – their vision is spotty for a moment, obscured with black and white spots that they have to blink away and allow their eyes to readjust to something other than complete darkness.

“.. Slaine?”

“I woke up in a room around the corner of this hallway,” Slaine says, starting to walk and pull Inaho along again, “And Harklight was in that room, with the light.” Their palms are warm against the other’s, and it seems he will not let go even now that there is light.

The hall is still relatively silent, with just their footsteps and quiet breathing. If there is anyone in the room now, they are either being extraordinarily quiet or are asleep. Inaho doubts Harklight would have remained quiet upon hearing Slaine’s voice. Neither of them are worried about disturbing any flores, not bothering to be quiet.

Taking a few quick steps to catch up to the other, Inaho glances toward Slaine when they are side-by-side, catching his eyes.

Slaine smiles a bit when their eyes meet, “After this, you’ll take me to the lake.”

It is not a question.

Inaho smiles back, amused by the change in the rose's tone. “I'll take you to the lake,” he agrees, easy.

The side room is a bit more lit than the hallway when they approach it. It is still rather dark for what seems to be a flores’ room, though it looks like it provides enough for a flores to function relatively normally, and like Inaho thought, it is empty.

A bed of petals lies on a wooden plank, elevated off the ground, and there is a small window high above them. It does not seem accessible, even for taller flores, and probably does not open, like most windows. There are only a few types that swing open, made sticky with sap, but those do not last long due to wind. There are pebbles on the floor, holding down what seems to be a petal with etchings in it: thin, black lines that form the runes of their language. At a glance, they seem to pertain to flores history. There are small needles in the corner of the room, propped up against the wall. In the past, apparently, they were necessary for defence against the humans, though they did not work that well considering the great size disparity. Nowadays, they are used mostly for farming, for the cutting of grass and stems and fruit. Though they are thin, they can cut through weaker fruit.

“What.. are those?” Slaine questions, taking a few, short steps into the room.

“Gardening tools,” Inaho says, following after him.

Finally releasing Inaho’s hand, Slaine crouches in front of the needles, curiously looking them over. They are no threat, thankfully. They were never meant to puncture; their tips are rounded, and their thin blades are curved, a change that followed soon after the humans’ disappearance.

“.. do you want to rest, here?” Inaho asks, and Slaine turns his head to meet his eyes. Slaine is tired, and Inaho does not want to push him any more than necessary. If the rose wandered out by himself, then surely the rest of the hall is not nearly as bad as the labyrinth is. “I’ll keep looking while you rest.”

“Are.. you sure?” Slaine asks, seeming uncertain.

The leafy canteen is loose in his hands, and it takes him a moment to get back up to his feet, a bit unsteady. The orange juice sloshes quietly inside, and Inaho grabs one of his wrists before Slaine loses his balance. “I’m sure,” the orange blossom assures, “Rest. Lie down in the sun, and I’ll be right back.”

“Alright..”

It does not take much convincing. They both know just how tired he is, and a short rest will do him some good.

As instructed, Slaine lies down on the floor beside the flower petal, careful not to disturb any of the pebbles that keep it flat and in place. The pool of sunlight is warm as he shuts his eyes, and it does not take long for him to lightly doze off.

Inaho is quiet as he walks around the rose, glancing toward the other as he leaves the room. Slaine’s canteen stands just out of reach, where it cannot be accidentally knocked over.

Slaine _needs_ the rest.

And without Slaine’s presence, Inaho is sure he will get a better reading on this ‘Harklight’, as Slaine cannot sway his responses.

It would seem, so far, that Harklight works here. _Someone_ has to be responsible for the garden in the back.

And responsible for taking care of the scholars, since it seems this labyrinth has no other flores residing in it. The other halls are most likely deserted dead ends, either purposely meant to confuse, or abandoned in favour of the flores living on the tree rather than under it.

Inaho wanders through the hall slowly, surprised to find small pockets of sunlight filtering in from above. They are scattered and few, and he can easily see the dust and dirt floating about, mere specks in his eyes.

They are not beautiful. Or fascinating. They are merely there, and they cannot, do not, compare to the starry sky at night or the fireflies above the lake.

Slaine would probably disagree with him – the rose finds beauty in nearly everything.

Inaho continues down the hall, noting the lack of other rooms. It would seem that the room from before is far apart from any other room that might be at the end of the hall.

If that room _does_ belong to Harklight, then it would not be so odd; the scholars need someone on watch for them, to prevent any wandering flores from disturbing them. Which means.. if he is not in his room, he might be patrolling this hall, however long it may be. Hopefully this hall does not lead back into the labyrinth. The orange blossom is unsure if the two of them could last much longer if the halls go dark again.

The walls are smooth here, as well. With the light, it is easy to see that they are covered in sap, rendering the rougher parts of the bark smooth and shiny and somewhat reflective.

It is an odd trait, to be present throughout the whole labyrinth. No flores would be able to notice it in the pitch, or truly realise what it was if they touched it in the dark.

‘ _Harklight kind of looked like you’._

“A white flores..” Inaho mumbles, the thought not setting quite well.

Other than the petals, it is likely that Harklight and he are nothing alike. There is a constant, nagging feeling that tells him it will be difficult for the two of them to get along, even putting aside the fact that he tried to take Slaine away. Slaine had issues remembering Harklight. It is entirely possible that coming to meet him was a bad idea on Inaho’s part, a dangerous mistake. _Why_ Harklight had taken Slaine is unclear, and he had come here seeking answers, but.. –

Inaho stumbles backward when someone grabs him, quickly finding it hard to breathe with an arm against his throat. Instinctively, his hands rise, though he stops just short of digging his nails into their arm, thinking it may be better not to anger the flores, if they are who he thinks they are.

“What are you doing here?”

Their voice comes from above his head, not sounding as close as Slaine’s voice usually does. They are tall. Much taller than he is, and bigger, judging by the arm.

“Harklight,” Inaho greets, breathing out shakily. A smirk plays on his lips, despite the situation, and he hears the flores make a soft sound of surprise. “If I’m not.. not back in half an hour.. Slaine will start to.. to worry about me,” he says quietly, and he feels the arm against his throat lessen just enough to make it easier to breathe. As he thought, Slaine is important to the other flores. How important, he thinks he is about to find out.

“Why are you here?”

Inaho glances downward at the arm. Just as Slaine said, the majority of the other’s petals are white, and the ones near his wrist are tinged a crimson red. They are long, and they are curved, and Inaho understands why Slaine had a difficult time attempting to identify him.

A chrysanthemum.

They are rare around these parts, despite having once been common. Rumours spread that they brought misfortune to those around them.

“I asked Slaine to bring me here,” Inaho says simply, “I wanted to meet you.”

“Why?” Harklight demands, and there is an edge in his voice. Annoyed. Slight confusion. Agitation. Frustration.

Inaho continues to gaze at Harklight’s arm.

Even just seeing this much, it is clear that he is far less happier than Slaine and his friends are. The petals adorning his arm are sparse, few, and spaced apart quite noticeably. Compared to Slaine, even after his accidents.. Harklight seems miserable.

“I want to know why you tried to take Slaine away,” he says, keeping his tone even, low.

Harklight does not seem at all willing to let him go, and it would prove well not to upset him any further. Unless Slaine comes to look for him, they will be like this until the chrysanthemum calms down.

“You really don’t remember what you did to him?”

Inaho stiffens. _Which time?_ are the words on his tongue, and his heart sinks at the memories. Instead, he remains silent, unwilling to accidentally share any information that would compromise him. Harklight obviously remembers more concerning Slaine than the rose remembers about him, and giving something dangerous away would be..

“Slaine resented you,” Harklight says, and it sounds pained, now.

Breathing in again, the orange blossom feels Harklight’s grip around his throat tighten a bit.

“That’s why, he.. You’re the reason he is the way he is,” Harklight says, and it just drives the guilt in Inaho’s heart deeper, like a thorn in his chest.

“I _know_ that,” Inaho whispers, the words slipping from his lips before he is able to put any thought behind them.

They are thoughtless, but not meaningless. The pain and guilt in his heart tells him the feeling is justified, even if he cannot remember the exact reason why Slaine is the way he is. All he knows and remembers is that his decisions played an active part in Slaine's mental health.

“I know that, so I..”

The orange blossom trails off, and feels Harklight loosen his grip once more. _I want to make it up to him._

The two of them remain silent and still in the hall for a few moments. Harklight finally, completely releases the brunet, pulling away to look down the hall. There is guilt in his navy eyes, eyes that resemble Slaine's when Inaho turns to look up at him.

The light flickering in from the ceiling does not reflect off of them.

Still silent, Inaho's own mismatched eyes flicker over the other, lingering on the crimson tipped petals at his wrist. ‘Stained’ would be the most accurate way to describe the petals. Stained white, muddied, sullied with what Inaho remembers blood to look like. Just like his muddy crimson eye.

That other world had no happy ending.

“I believed separating him from you would curb his self-destructive tendencies.”

 _There’s another reason. Though you probably won’t admit it,_ Inaho thinks to himself, only slightly surprised, _You fell for him. In that other world. Like I did._

It is easy to see how anyone could fall for Slaine.

The rose is naturally charming. Kind. Sweet. Warm.

Slaine is incredibly easy to fluster. The more he flusters, the louder he becomes, and that can sometimes lead to mischievous quips, teasing. Their banter can go until Slaine becomes too flustered to continue, and he is far more emotional than most flores..

.. but he is genuine. Sincere.

_And that’s why you wanted him._

The air hangs heavy between them.

Though Inaho is able to understand fully well how the other feels, it is hard not to feel frustrated, even if there is only a hint of it.

Losing Slaine is not an option.

To Harklight.

To the rose’s own self.

Losing him, to anything, _anyone_ , after falling for him a second time and getting a second chance together.. is just not an option, at all. Last night had been incredibly painful. The sheer relief he had felt when Slaine returned, whole, in one piece, with little damage.. There are no words to describe how happily relieved he had been.

Harklight speaks first. The expression on his features is pained, still, and his navy eyes flicker between Inaho and the hall. “How.. was he, at the end..?” he manages to ask; it is soft, pained, strained. The chrysanthemum was not there, at the end – nor was he there for any part of it, really. Slaine all but disappeared from his grasp and sight.

The only one present was Inaho. And though Inaho still cannot remember exact details, he knows he visited his rose for at least two years before their forced parting

“.. bittersweet,” Inaho answers, “It was.. bittersweet, right until the very end.”

-*-

“.. aine..”

“Mmn..”

“.. up, Slaine..”

“Huh..?” Slaine stirs a bit and adjusts his arm, which had been keeping the sun from his eyes. Inaho is blurry, leaning over him, and it takes a moment for his sleepy vision to adjust. “Inaho..” he says, smiling a bit as he sits up. “Are you done looking?” he asks, and he looks rested, rejuvenated from the patch of sunlight.

“I'm done looking,” Inaho affirms, nodding a bit. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The sun..” Slaine glances upward, at the window. The sun is still bright and strong, though it does not feel particularly hot or humid in the room, like it did in their cabin. “You haven't had a chance to rest..” he says, gently pulling the brunet’s hand, “Aren't you tired?”

“I'm fine,” Inaho assures him, shaking his head a few times, “I've been awake longer than you have. I'm more used to this.” _And I have a stronger constitution than you do. But I'm sure yours will get better with time, since you're getting more energetic.._ he figures, the thought relieving. Slaine will improve as the years go by, and the damage he had incurred before waking will hopefully be healed.

Slaine smiles at that, lacing their fingers together. The sunlight has made him warmer than he usually is, skin almost hot to the touch. “Did you find Harklight? What did you need him for?”

“I had questions,” Inaho answers simply, “And so he has answers, if you'd like to ask him things.”

“Ask..?” Slaine raises his head upon seeing a shift in the doorway, and meets Harklight's vaguely familiar eyes. “Hark.. light,” he greets, slow, surprised. The name slips, and his grip on Inaho's hand tightens, taken off-guard to see him again.

Inaho remains quiet beside his rose, ignoring the slight tinge in his heart. “Ask him whatever you want. Alright?” he says, and Slaine nods a few times, seemingly realising what this means.

“Whatever I want? Really?” Slaine questions, looking between the two of them.

There is hope in his voice, excited hope, and Inaho thinks he was right in guessing that this was what Slaine needs. Answers, for whatever questions he may have. For those thoughts and memories in his head.

“I'll answer what I can,” Harklight promises, lingering in the doorway. “I can't answer what I don't know or remember,” he says, and Slaine nods at that, understanding.

Shifting again, the blond sits up a bit straighter, and Inaho feels their knees bump as his rose tries to get comfortable. Slaine's eyes are serious, retaining only some of their usual softness; this has been something he never thought he would have a chance at.

Neither of them thought there would be another who would remember that other world, their first world.

The world without a happy ending.

“Who..” Slaine continues staring up at the chrysanthemum, asking the first immediate question that comes to mind, the one that seems important to get out of the way, “Who _are_ you? I.. still can't..”

The rest comes out soft, pained.

Harklight was someone close enough to him for him to dream about, but.. Amidst all his other fragmented memories, they simply do not stick out enough. Slaine has trouble remembering anything outside of that last week they spent together, and even those memories are incomplete, broken, shattered.

Smiling again, though there is an obvious hint of pain in his eyes, Harklight bows slightly, polite, just as he had been last night. “My name is Harklight,” he introduces for the second time, “and I’m the aide to the scholars that live here.” It is the same introduction as last time, nearly word-for-word. The chrysanthemum does not straighten himself, and remains bowing before the blond, and Inaho already realises where this is going. “I served you, in that other world, and served under you.”

Slaine’s features slip. Recollection flickers in his eyes. Faint, but present. “I see,” he says, and a pained smile starts pulls at his lips. “You’re.. You were loyal, right up until.. And then you disappeared..”

_Disappeared, like you did? Or.._

“Why didn’t you listen to me? If you had, then.. you, at least.. You wouldn’t have..” The rose shakes his head a few times, bittersweet again. That expression does not suit him, not in the least, but.. How he feels about such an ending can only be described in this manner. That other world was simply..

_There was nothing, for any of us there._

Harklight raises his head, glancing toward Inaho. “My fate would’ve been the same as yours, either way,” he says, making it sound simple, easy.

Slaine frowns at that.

Inaho tenses up when the rose’s grip tightens, almost painful. _I know how badly it hurts to lose someone. And I can’t remember everything, but I.._

Harklight is probably right.

They were on opposite sides of a war, though that war had been quite different from the one between humans and flores hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Slaine and Harklight were on one side.. and Inaho and his friends on the other. Which side had been the ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ side is.. _Had there been a ‘right’ and ‘wrong’ side, at the end..? Because Slaine was.._

“My.. crimes were..” Slaine starts, and he has lowered his voice again.

Inaho glances toward the other, heart in his throat. It is a hard lump, and he cannot swallow it this time. Unlike himself, Slaine wears his heart on his sleeve, and even the minute changes are visible on his face and in his voice. And right now, his rose feels guilty.

“Since mine were more severe, I.. I was execu–..” Stopping himself before he can finish, Slaine forces his gaze to the wall, staring firmly at it rather than Inaho or Harklight.

The pain is clear on his features. The guilt. The confusion. Slaine does not fully remember the extent of what he had done, or even what he did to warrant being locked up in a metal cage, but.. If he was there, and Inaho could not save him, then he probably did something horrible enough to warrant death. His own previous actions had cost him a future with Inaho.

“Why..”

The rose gathers some composure, breathing in softly. Grip loosening on Inaho's hand, Slaine’s eyes slip to the shiny, wooden floors, polished and held together with tree sap. There are bumps and bubbles of sap – they had felt soft and smooth when he and Inaho had wandered through the halls, though it is only now that he realises it was in fact sap. It is only now that he realises he has little idea of what to do with this new life, other than spend it with Inaho and his new friends, the friends he never had a chance to have.

“.. why.. am I here?”

-*-

“Nao and Slaine aren't here..” Yuki muses, slight disappointment in her tone.

The couple's cabin is empty, and seems to have been so for most of the morning, now. Their room looks almost untouched, _almost_ , and would appear immaculate if it were not for the blue tinged petals littering the room, mixed in with leaves and tiny twigs.

“They must've left to have breakfast together.”

“And lunch,” Calm adds, leaning against the doorway, “since it's kinda late, now. You know he won't let Slaine wander around without at least having a small snack.”

The sun is still high in the sky, and it is a bit hotter than it was this morning – the four of them have stuck mostly to the grand tree in the base's centre, allowing the leaves to do their job of keeping them from overheating. The summertime is always a dangerous game of trying not to overheat whilst still getting an appropriate amount of sunlight and energy. The winter is the same way, but instead they worry about freezing.

“I bet they're out on a date!” Nina hums, gently nudging the delphinium at her side. The two are arm-in-arm, sharing a fish's scale that they are using as an umbrella, for now. It is wide enough for the two of them, and it is shimmery, glimmery, reflecting the sun's light a bit better than a thin leaf would.

It has no real use, but the trio decided to take it back home with them after Nina was taken with how pretty it is. Perhaps they can find some use for it later.

“Let’s not bother them,” Inko says, nodding a bit to herself, “Slaine's never been here before, so he's probably really excited. Inaho might be showing him around before they meet us later tonight.” It is hard, trying to make sure the two of them do not get sweaty enough not to stick together, but they should be returning to the tree's cool shelter soon enough.

Yuki glances out the window, at the petals floating on by. “We'll see them later,” she agrees, smiling somewhat.

Though she had been hoping the two of them would join them earlier in the day, she knows Inaho must be enjoying whatever alone time they get together, especially in an area as large as this. It usually is not difficult to find them, but here.. they have far more places to explore and hide in. Whatever they are doing now, at least they will not be interrupted by their nosy, curious friends.

“I think Nao mentioned there was a garden where they grew strawberries somewhere around here.. Maybe we can get some and freeze some chunks. They're supposed to taste really good frozen, in the summer..”

-*-

“.. like this, you see?” Inaho asks, soft. There is a piece of glass in his hand, and he is holding it between the two of them, allowing it to catch the sunlight. A rainbow reflects off of its surface as he turns it, careful not to let the sunlight shine too long on either of them, not wanting to cause a burn. Though it is highly likely there is aloe here to treat a burn, he does not want to risk harming Slaine or making him panic.

Slaine nods a bit, and the orange blossom wipes at his eyes with his free hand, features gentle, patient.

“Are you feeling better?” Inaho asks, lowering his voice.

Slaine nods again, and smiles somewhat this time, looking just the slightest bit relieved.

Inaho sets the shard of glass down on the grass, taking care to keep it just out of reach, should either of them decide to adjust themselves. Neither of them need any injuries on their vacation, though he is sure that they would be able to get the necessary materials for aid, should it come to that.

“Did you finally find what you were looking for?” Inaho asks, and Slaine leans into his touch, a mixture of relief and confusion on his features. It is only natural. After asking such an odd question, neither him nor Harklight could answer it properly, though the chrysanthemum certainly tried to answer it as best he could.

“ _Why am I here?”_ Slaine had asked, temporarily stunning the both of them.

There is a simple answer. There always is.

Slaine is here because he had been born here.

“ _You don’t want to be here?”_ Harklight had asked, and it had been pained.

It is obvious why such a question had hurt him. It is not obvious to Slaine, unfortunately, who still needs some time to remember exactly who Harkight had been – _what_ Harklight had been to him.

To Harklight, who sees Slaine just as dear.. to see that Slaine might not want to live in this new world..

“You're here so that you and I can get a happy ending,” Inaho says, and Slaine softens further, smile widening a bit, barely enough to be noticed. Smiling back, he feels his heart relax, settle back in his chest where it is supposed to be. “That’s what you told Harklight, isn’t it?”An hour ago, it had felt painful, a hard lump, a pebble in his throat that he could not speak over.

“ _Why am I here?”_

Harklight had been taken aback by the question, it was written all over his face, the sheer confusion. It had been all over his face, but Slaine had not seen it, the rose's gaze had been fixed firmly on the ground, he had been too pained to raise his head.

“ _Why do you think you're here?”_ had been Harklight's response after his recovery.

That had caught Slaine's attention. Another 'why'. Slaine had not been expecting a retort, but he had been at least able to answer, with only a second's hesitation –

“ _A second chance.”_

It is the most logical conclusion, considering their circumstances. _How_ it happened, not even Harklight knows, and he had all but said he has been alive here for quite some time.

The other flores are most likely normal, with no connection to that other world, blissfully unaware of the irregularities in their society. They go about their day-to-day lives, only able to vaguely remember a time when this planet had not been so peaceful, when humans roamed the world.

And Harklight..

Inaho knows why Harklight is here. For Slaine. And for the sister scholars, though they are most likely lower priority than Slaine is. During all the time he has been here, he has faithfully served under them, though Inaho is unsure if this is what Harklight truly wants or not. Now that he knows Slaine exists..

“Slaine?” Inaho asks, and the blond hums in response, “You.. don't want to disappear anymore, do you?” It comes out soft. Low. The orange blossom is unsure if he wants to ask, if he wants to know the answer. _I don't want.. you to feel like that, anymore,_ he thinks to himself, and the pain in his heart returns, though it is far more tame than it was before.

The rose's gaze slips for just a moment, a second, and his smile turns sheepish. Raising his head again, he breathes out, even, calm. “I'll.. get there,” he says, nodding a few times. It is sincere, just like his promise was last night.

Getting answers has helped, even if he did not realise answers were what he was looking for.

“I'll get there,” he repeats, more firm, now, “I don't want to disappear, if it means.. leaving you behind..”

Inaho nods back, heart settling again, slow. It is more than enough to hear that Slaine wants the feeling gone, does not wish to act upon it. _If I lost you again, I'd.._ The twinge returns, and he wills it away, disregarding the painful thoughts. “We have all week,” he says, and Slaine brightens up more.

“You'll take me to the lake, won't you?” Slaine asks, pulling away and starting to get up – he is a bit wobbly after resting for so long, and Inaho has to push on his back to keep him from falling over. The dirt is cool beneath his feet, and the short blades of grass are a bit warm from the sun beaming down overhead.

Leaving the labyrinth had been far, _far_ easier than getting in. Harklight showed them a small passage hidden in the wall after answering a few more of Slaine's questions. It was aptly hidden in the dark, purposefully made to presumably allow the scholars to wander in and out without much of an issue. Though the passage too had been pitch dark, it had been far shorter than the twists and turns of the labyrinth. With it, Inaho and Slaine were able to properly re-energise without the fear of passing out in the dark.

Before they parted ways, Harklight mentioned he would come and see them again – he mentioned he would be more than happy to show _Slaine_ around, and the rose did not pick up on the fact that he had been trying to leave Inaho out.

“Of course,” Inaho says, getting up and following after him. Taking Slaine's hand in his own once he as caught up, he glances between the rose and the base before them. They will need to get an umbrella before acquiring a boat – the sunlight is far too strong for the both of them, and drinking water or juice will do them no good when they are fully exposed to its strong beams. “Slaine?” he asks again, and again, the blond hums softly in response, a small, content smile on his lips.

“You found what you were looking for, didn't you?”

Slaine glances toward the other, teal eyes lingering over Inaho's mismatched ones. “I did,” he says, and his smile softens as he breathes out again. “Thank you. For helping me find it,” he says, lowering his tone.

Inaho stares back at the other, momentarily at a loss for words. His heart is at ease in his chest. Warm. Calm. “You're welcome,” he returns, finally allowing himself to squeeze Slaine's hand.

It feels nice, in his own, and Slaine reciprocates immediately, without hesitation, without having to think about it. Slaine will not slip from his grasp. Not that easily.

They have finally gotten their second chance, and Inaho has no intention of letting it fall into the void.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the second Orangebat Anthology, the theme Hunter/Hunted, this time! another huge thanks to miss Rosi for organising yet another event. writing this took a super duper long time, and it's my longest thing yet, i really hope you guys love it as much as i do. this is one of my favourite AUs that i've come up with :)  
> -*-  
> flower meanings;  
> white rose; new beginnings, love you still and always will, you are heavenly  
> blue rose; miracles, impossibilities, love, prosperity  
> tulip**; perfect love, (variegated) beautiful eyes, (white) forgiveness, worthiness  
> orange blossom; eternal love, innocence, promised love  
> delphinium**; bighearted, fun, ardent attachment  
> sunflower; child at heart, loyalty, natural vitality  
> buttercup**; cheerful, charming, childishness  
> chrysanthemum**; loyal, cheerful, you are a wonderful friend  
> pink rose; admiration, gracefulness, perfect happiness, joy, secret
> 
> **these are toxic and dangerous to ingest.


End file.
